


All Our Days

by hausos



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Family, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Self-Indulgent, The Author Regrets Nothing, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 119,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hausos/pseuds/hausos
Summary: Eight people across space and time meet, flying with wings that don't physically exist.(sense8 fusion)





	1. first meetings

**Author's Note:**

> title is a song, All Our Days by Jeff Williams & Casey Lee Williams.
> 
> inspired somewhat by the visitors series, but only by making me remember that sense8 AU are a thing, because holy crap i love sense8 and i can't believe i haven't done something like this before now.
> 
> this is wildly self indulgent, and will be written as i feel like. it's also wildly au because when you've got seven other people in your head, things don't have to happen exactly as they did.
> 
> this first chapter is written somewhat seriously because i wanted it to be, anything after is just random stuff. no really, don't take this work too seriously, it's 100% self indulgent

**Altair x Aveline**

There was not a single person is Masyaf that doubted that his name rang true, and the Masters would tease Umar about how he must have seen the future to name his son so. Umar told his son that the name given to him was not foresight, but rather a wish.

It was a wish that Altair granted.

He clung to the heights of the towers with a single mindedness that the other children called obsession. The Masters considered it cute, like a kitten that yowled in defiance. Yes, it would grow up to be dangerous, but right now it was simply cute. Altair frowned whenever he heard those words, though he settled when he was assured that he would grow into his claws.

Or _talons_ , as the Masters teased gently. Altair eyed the sky like one day he would grow the wings he needed to soar. The Masters told Umar that even if Altair didn’t have the inclination for their line of work-- which was a rather large _if_ , considering how he learned-- Altair belonged in Masyaf. It was the only place where he could reach for the sky as he did.

That was why Altair respected his father and the other Masters as intently as he did. They did not have the same fervor, the same intensity, but they _understood_ Altair. They may not reach as Altair did, but they stood upon the heights unafraid of it. And with Altair being the only one like himself in Masyaf, he clung to that understanding.

Umar would hold Altair and take him up to the platforms where Assassins did their Leaps of Faith. Altair would watch them intently, arms spread as if they were wings, the wind catching their robes, careless in the way only the truly faithful could. And Umar would murmur promises that Altair would do the same when he was old enough.

One day, Altair climbed one of the towers open to children. It was a place that he was certain was empty at this time of the day. That he _needed_ to be empty. Where the other children wouldn't make their comments about him. His father said that they would grow out of it as the learned more of the world, but that didn’t help Altair _now_.

And yet, there was another person waiting at the landing. The girl looked to be the same age as he was, and near the same height. She was darker skinned than he was, and her hair was black and thick and in long braids that reached down her back. She wore a simple shirt and trousers, but they didn’t seem like they would protect her from the harsh summer sun.

“Who are you?” Altair asked bluntly. He did not recognize her, and he knew the faces of all of the other children his age. It was possible that she was a recent addition to Masyaf, but he would have heard of new arrivals. Still, there was _something_ about her that Altair found familiar.

“My name’s Aveline,” she said, and eyed him right back. She studied him as intently as he studied her.

She turned and stepped right up to the railing that kept clumsy children from falling off the edge, and gripped it tightly in her hands. Aveline leaned out as far as she could past it, nearly bending in half at the waist. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, taking in the scents that the winds brought up.

_Oh_ . “You are the same as me,” Altair said. It was a statement of fact. Aveline looked like she wanted to _jump_ , and that she expected wings that did not exist to catch her. It was an all too familiar expression. “I am Altair. Why are you here?”

Not _here_ , as in the tower. No, Altair knew that Aveline was there because he was. He wondered why she was here, in Masyaf, in this place and time. Altair knew that he was the only one like himself that should be here. Not because of any claim he had on Masyaf, but because Altair was the _only one like himself_ . Even his father and the Masters could only do so much, _be_ so much.

Aveline looked back at him, still leaning over the railing. She looked utterly relaxed there, her hands settled onto the railing instead of gripping it. “I wanted to be outside, and feel the wind, and the sun. It’s been storming, and I haven’t been allowed outside.”

“Masyaf is good for sunshine,” Altair said, and made a face. He couldn’t imagine not being allowed outside.

“Masyaf? I like it,” Aveline said, grinning. She turned back out, and Altair moved closer to mimic her position. “It’s not like my home, but it’s nice. I’ve never been so high before.”

“You can visit, whenever I come here,” Altair said.

He _should_ be the only one there, but Aveline wasn’t _there_ truly, was she? He could almost hear the sound of water hitting stone, like what it sounded like at the bottom of the ravine that made a natural barrier for the fortress. Altair felt that if he took a step sideways, he could be where Aveline was.

“Thank you,” Aveline said. “You can come and visit me too.”

Altair smiled at her. Aveline was the same as him. Maybe not in personality, or skills, or what they considered most important. No, they were the same in the way that they stared out to the sky, reaching, stuck on the ground as they were.

There wings weren’t physical, wouldn’t carry them like the eagles that flew over Masyaf, but they existed all the same. They had to, if they brought Aveline here to visit, and if they would allow Altair to visit her. And if the two of them could fly, there had to be others like them as well. It was a good thought, that Altair would meet _more_ like himself.

Altair would have to spread the wings he couldn’t physically feel, for all that his spirit _knew_ that he had them, and had been trying to tell him so for his entire life. His yearning for places beyond his home meant that he could _reach_ those places.

Altair had to tell his father. Umar loved him, and would be pleased to know that Altair found others like himself. Even if Altair had the feeling that no one would be able to see Aveline.

“Oh!” Aveline said, and snapped her fingers, leaning back so suddenly that Altair startled. He blinked at her, thrown from his train of thought. “I forgot my manners! It’s nice to meet you, Altair.”

“Yes,” Altair agreed. “It is nice to meet you, Aveline.

0o0o0

**Jun x Connor**

If there was one way that Jun would rise to the ranks of Imperial Concubine, it was her skill as a dancer. Even now it granted her favor with the Emperor, who allowed her to keep her feet unbound, when the other girls already started the process. And so, Jun trained her body as not to give _anyone_ reason to start on her.

She also loved to climb, though that was looked down upon. Sill, the older concubines and women that trained her would turn a blind eye to it-- they were the women that knew their places, their worth, and cared not for how the world viewed it at all. And in their own way, encouraged it in all of the girls.

So when Jun climbed the tree that stood outside their balcony, no one said a thing. There, Jun felt that she could dance right past the branches, and keep going. That there was nothing to keep her bound to the castle. That Jun could follow the clouds past beyond the boundaries of the castle and to other lands.

It wasn’t something that Jun indulged in often. She was busy with lessons, and training, and her dancing. But she climbed often enough that she considered the small opening at the top of the tree _hers_ . That the view from up there, even though there were better and higher vantage points, _hers_.

Up this high, she could imagine she saw the world as it truly was. There were shades of color that blanketed everything, giving meaning to things otherwise unseen and unknown. And with that, she _knew_ that she wasn’t the only one there.

It was on a climbing day like any other that Jun found herself standing on top of a different tree entirely. The sun shone through the canopy of this new forest, leaving leaf dappled shadows on her skin. It had to be a different place and time, because at this time of day, her tree was entirely in shadow. There was no reason for Jun to stand in sunlight.

“Who are you?” a soft voice asked, curious.

The voice was completely unafraid, no matter that Jun had just appeared out of nothing.

Jun looked to the left and down. There was a boy, maybe her age, looking up at her from his seat on a neighboring branch. He had dark hair cropped at his chin and darker eyes. His clothes were made from skins and leathers, and were finely made. They did appear well worn. Not surprising, if he climbed trees often. And Jun _knew_ he climbed trees often.

“Jun,” she said. She stared at him, and he stared at her. Jun had no idea who he was, but she _knew_ him. “And you?”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton,” he said. He blinked up at her and tilted his head, like the hunting hawks Jun sometimes managed to see. “Are you a spirit?”

“No,” Jun denied, knowing Ratonhnhaké:ton asked for questions sake. He _knew_ she wasn’t a spirit. Though the slight confusion as to why she was _here_ , in a tree that wasn’t her own, was understandable. Jun certainly was, even if she wasn’t scared, and actually quite content to have met Ratonhnhaké:ton. “This could be a waking dream.”

“Maybe. I don’t think I’d meet you otherwise,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. He looked thoughtful, though he didn’t voice anything. Instead, he turned back to look past the tree and to the view.

Jun followed his line of sight, and saw the dip into a valley. “You have a nice tree.” It was obvious that this was all Ratonhnhaké:ton. Jun recognized the shape of the trees, and they way they lined the mountains, but it was completely unlike her own home.

“I’m sure you do too, if your own tree brought you to mine,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. That wasn’t _quite_ what happened, but Jun understood the simplification. He looked at her again, and watched the way she swayed with the branch. “You dance.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton said it like it was fact. Jun didn’t bother asking how he knew that. After all, one didn’t need to know how to _dance_ to keep balance on a tree branch. Just from this brief meeting, Jun already _knew_ things about Ratonhnhaké:ton that she should be surprised to know.

“Yes. I am lucky that the Emperor decided that my skill was enough to stop my feet from being bound,” Jun said.

“That’s good,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, blinking. “Though it is _not_ good that you have to bind your feet where you are.”

“It is what it is,” Jun said, and shrugged. She would never get anywhere if she focused on what she thought was unfair. Not with where she was, right now. Ratonhnhaké:ton _knew_ that, she felt, even as he spoke of it. “I am interested in what your people are like.”

“Can you visit me when I am not here?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked, meaning the tree.

“Yes,” Jun said. That _felt_ true. “We were able to meet this first time because of our trees and our thoughts. But that means that there is nothing stopping us from visiting each other anywhere else.”

“That’s true,” Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed. “And I know you, now. It will not be hard to search for you.” He smiled at her. It was a small thing, but no less true for it. He smiled with his eyes more than his face. “Either here, or where you are.”

Jun nodded, excited at the thought. She thought Ratonhnhaké:ton would like the castle and the surrounding area. She certainly liked it here. And if there were two trees where people perched in them like birds, then there had to be more trees with people. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

0o0o0

**Ezio x Elise**

They did not meet face to face for a long while, but Ezio was aware that he was not alone in his mind for years. It started when his father and Federico first took him by the hand and led him up the ladders to the roof. Ezio would normally be extremely put out at being up before the sun rose, but he knew where they were going. And up there, with the sun starting to rise above the horizon, Ezio saw Florence from above for the first time.

It was breathtaking, the view. Ezio’s eyes lit up as he watched the sun start to glint off of the tiled roofs, dew making it sparkle. At the time, he didn’t notice the awe that rose parallel to his own, so fixated on his own. Later, he would recognize that he wasn’t alone. His father and Federico weren’t the only ones there with Ezio.

There was a redheaded girl in the back of Ezio’s mind. Every time Ezio did something that he felt large emotion for, whether it be fear, or joy, or even intense boredom, that presence was there. And likewise, he would dream of another noble house, and watch as _she_ lived and learned everything Ezio was learning with his father. And also the sword, which Ezio was somewhat jealous of.

But, they learned together as well. When Ezio had trouble with his work, she would help him figure it out. When she flagged in energy, Ezio lent her his own. They were a pair, the two of them. They shared many things, depending on what either of them needed or wanted.

Ezio considered the nameless girl to be a part of himself, like no one else was. He sometimes thought that the girl _was_ him, in a different life. A step sideways where he was born a girl. And she thought the same, he felt. The idea wasn’t uncomfortable. Their hearts were similar. The change in body would be odd, but not _awkward_.

Ezio was comfortable with the other presence in his life, that came and went, but was always, always constant. He had the feeling that there was more than just his other self, that there were things he was _missing_ , but it was a distant thought. One he only ever thought about when he climbed to the rooftops with Federico. There, Ezio could almost imagine that there were others than just himself and the nameless girl who would enjoy the view.

He first met her face to face when he was eight. He climbed the clocktower on his own for the first time, then. Federico was off doing business with their father, and Ezio was to be apprenticed to a banker. Ezio did not mind it, really he didn’t, but he just wanted to be… away, for a while.

It took him some time to climb the clocktower. Ezio was more cautious than he normally would be without someone to keep an eye on him. He did manage it on his own, though, and he stood at the top triumphantly. And like always, he felt her presence arrive, partaking in that feeling as she always did.

“It’s a bit tough, isn’t it?” a soft voice asked.

Ezio blinked and turned. There he saw a girl, and _knew_ her immediately. There was no way he wouldn’t recognize the nameless and faceless presence that had been by his side for as long as he could remember.

She looked at him, and he looked at her. Her hair was a deep shade of red, long and wavy. She had green eyes, and was covered in freckles. She was shorter than he was, though not by much. She wore a dress that hid everything he knew about her. Like the fact that she climbed nearly as much as he did, and was learning the sword.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ezio said after a long moment. He was crying, and refused to be ashamed about it. They were happy tears, and she was crying too.

“Yes, it is,” she said. She blinked rapidly, and then turned to look over Florence with awe in her eyes. The view never did get old, no matter how many times he climbed. “This is where you are? It’s beautiful.”

“Your home is beautiful too,” Ezio said. Not that she could find places to climb as easily as he did. Her parents kept a stricter eye on her, and she climbed the trees in their courtyard more often than any buildings.

“You will see it properly,” she said, and looked back to him. “I am able to visit you like this, so you must be able to visit me.”

“Yes,” Ezio agreed. Honestly, they both refused to believe otherwise. Face to face, he could tell that their thoughts circled each other. Face to face, he could finally note all their differences and similarities more clearly.

“I am Elise,” she said.

“I am Ezio.”

They stared at each other as something clicked into place. They always were able to distinguish themselves from the other, even when they cared not to. Yet, having a _name_ to the presence, and a face…

Well. Ezio still cried.

He didn't know who pulled who into the hug first, but there they were. And then they were both laughing with glee on top of the clocktower, arms wound around each other. There was an echo of touch, as they felt each other hugging themselves, but it felt _wonderful_.

“Oh, it is so incredible to _meet_ you,” Elise said, face pressed into Ezio’s shoulder. Her voice should have been muffled, but he heard her clearly. “I told my mother about you, but I don’t think she believes me. Not really.”

“I told Federico, and he believes me, but I don’t think he understands,” Ezio said. And he loved his brother for it, that he took it at face value. That Federico believed Ezio when he told him that there was another person in his head. But still, his brother didn’t _understand_.

“Do you think we can meet each other’s family?” Elise asked. She pulled away and grabbed his hands.

Ezio turned his hands in hers, studying what he normally couldn’t. Elise had similar climbing calluses like Ezio did. She also had the ones that came from learning how to use the sword. “Not like we are meeting each other now.”

That _felt_ true. Elise was part of Ezio. They could see the difference between each other, but his family would only see Ezio. He figured that the opposite was true as well. Maybe, if they could learn to see the differences in personality?

“We can figure it out,” Elise promised.

“Yes. I know we can,” Ezio echoed.

0o0o0

**Evie x Desmond**

There were other people in Evie’s head. She knew this since she was capable of understanding the idea. Jacob was one of those people, though not in the same way. She and Jacob didn’t exist in each other’s mind the same way that the _others_ did.

Evie didn’t know any differently, or think it _was_ different. It was all she knew, and since no one else taught her differently, she assumed that no one else wasn’t alone in their head.

In fact, it was probably why people often acted one way and thought another, and mixed things up. _Evie_ had to be careful not to blurt out something when one of her other selves thought something particularly intensely. And that lined up with how Evie saw other people act.

Jacob told her that he didn’t have people in his head like she did, but Evie didn’t really believe him. She supposed that his own thoughts were so loud that anyone else’s edged in seamlessly, if not outright ignored. Evie just happened to be a thinker, and she _knew_ when a thought was not her own.

Evie didn’t realize that having people in her head _wasn’t_ normal until she met Desmond face to face. Not that she knew his name until later.

She liked Desmond. He was as curious as she, and thought just as much as she did, even if he was less vocal about it. He talked a lot when he was emotional, and his rambling would also infect his thoughts, leaving an almost clear running commentary in the back of Evie’s mind. He reached out to the others when he needed comfort without shame, and Evie did her best to help. She was an older sibling already, and Desmond seemed like he needed one badly.

It was a bad day, the day she finally met him. Evie and Jacob had finished training with their father for the day. It was a long day made longer by the fact that Evie could feel the rising anger, fear, and _shame_ coming from Desmond.

The negativity was a recent development. Desmond enjoyed his training. She often had dreams of the others, and Desmond often gave her memories of what he did during the day. But then, _shame_ started creeping in. It was so gradual that Evie didn’t notice until it burned at her.

“Evie?” Jacob asked, and pressed his shoulder to hers.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been frowning,” Jacob said, “And not your ‘ _Jacob is annoying and lazy’_ frown, either. This is your ‘ _something is actually wrong_ ’ frown.”

Evie sighed. “One of the people in my head- the one I said was our younger brother- is in trouble. He’s being trained as an Assassin like we are, but he’s… it’s like he’s being _bullied_ . By the people that are supposed to be _training_ him.”

Jacob frowned. They both knew that their father and the other Assassins were nowhere near as harsh as they could be, as teachers go. They were well loved and well protected, and injuries they gained while training were superficial, and tended to immediately afterwards. They both _knew_ this, even if neither bothered to think about it.

“That’s no good, is it? Does he not have anyone there with him?” Jacob asked. He looked and sounded lost, and Evie did not blame him. Neither of them had been alone a day in their life. Not having anyone at all was _unthinkable_.

“No. It’s why he’s our brother, even if he’s far away,” Evie said. Jacob nodded in agreement. When Evie told him that months ago, he accepted it immediately. Jacob accepted most everything Evie said about the other people in her head.

“Then you have to go and check on him, don’t you?” Jacob said.

“I don’t know how,” Evie said, frowning. She was aware of them, and all of their thoughts and feelings were there, in the back of her head. But she never _visited_ them. “...though, the other twins did manage, recently.”

Evie didn’t think that those two were _actually_ twins, not like Evie and Jacob. But they were so close they might as well be. Evie had to focus on them properly to separate them most of the time. It did become easier when they met, though. It was like seeing each other face to face for the first time helped them realize that they were two different people.

Or, as different as any group of people that shared their minds did, anyway.

“There you go. It’s possible, so you got to help,” Jacob said, nodding.

Evie bit her lip. That sounded good. _But._ “What about you?” she asked. Jacob would be left her alone, and she didn’t want that, either.

Jacob snorted. “Evie, not to sound mean or anything, but it’s all in your _head_. Your body isn’t going anywhere, so someone has to protect you. Tell me about it when you get back, and it’s fine.”

Evie blinked, surprised at his logic. It was true, she felt. Not the whole truth, maybe, but… _Nothing is true. Everything is permitted_. “Okay. Thank you, Jacob,” Evie said, and hugged him.

“It’s fine,” Jacob said, and then pushed her away. Gently, for him. He grinned at her. “Now, go save our baby brother, yeah?”

“Yes,” Evie agreed.

She closed her eyes and _reached_ for Desmond. The others in her head were _hers_ , like she was _theirs_ , but Desmond was family in a way that went beyond that. He was her brother by choice. And he needed help. And if Evie was good at one thing, it was looking out for her own.

Evie didn’t realize she actually went anywhere until she heard- _no,_ not heard, _felt_ someone crying nearby. Evie opened her eyes and looked around.

It was a bedroom. There were some odd furnishings she didn’t recognize. There was a weird timepiece on the dresser. The posters on the wall were oddly made, flat and glossy in a way most paint wasn’t. But none of it held her attention.

No, it was the boy that hid in the small space between the bedframe and the desk. Evie wouldn’t have seen him if she couldn’t feel him as well. He hid well in the shadows.

“Hello,” Evie greeted softly. She knelt in front of him, hands visible. “It’s alright. I’m here now.”

Dark eyes stared at her. He lifted a hand to rub at his tears.

Silent. He was so _silent_. Even Evie’s father made noise when he wasn’t training them. He said that it was polite for Assassins to make noise when not working, because they either worked with other Assassins that would attack on reflex, or civilians, who would startle badly if they were snuck up on. So why did this child learn to be so quiet when he was sad? He didn’t even sniffle.

“Who are you?” he asked after staring at her for a long moment.

Evie blinked, thrown by the idea that he _didn’t_ know who she was on sight. Evie may not know their names, or their faces, but she knew who they _were_. If Evie ever met them face to face, she would recognize them immediately.

“I’m Evie, one of the people in your head,” she said instead. Maybe he ignored the feeling of meeting someone he _knew_ while he cried. Jacob was proof that strong emotions made it easy to ignore obvious things sometimes. “I was worried about you, so I came to make sure that you were okay.”

“In my head?” he repeated. He uncurled slightly from the ball he was in to sit up straighter. He stared at her, something like recognition in his eyes. “My mom and dad said you’re not real.”

Evie frowned at that. Was that why he was being bullied? Because no one believed him about them? No, it couldn’t be, not really. Maybe it was part of it, but there was something else too. “I’m as real as you are,” she promised, “though I don’t think anyone else can see us.”

He stared at her as if judging her sincerity. Then he nodded. “Okay. Nice to meet you, Evie. I’m Desmond.”

“Desmond,” Evie repeated. It was a good name. She had a name to give Jacob now, too. He’d be pleased to learn it.

Desmond climbed out from his hiding place. It wasn’t much of one, not if Desmond was being trained by Assassins, but that didn’t mean much. Any Assassin worth their blades knew when and when not to push, and to leave hiding places be.

The thing, though, was that Evie was certain that the Assassins training Desmond wouldn’t let him have even that. Desmond might be punished, and already _was_ being punished, if his silent crying was indication. You didn’t learn to be silent like that on your own. And Desmond shouldn’t have to deal with that.

Evie couldn’t help herself. She pulled Desmond into a hug. He startled and stiffened, as if he was unused to being hugged. That was a shame. Everyone could use hugs. Still, despite his hesitance, Desmond hugged her back hard. It was a good start.

0o0o0

  



	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first chapter is what i wrote following the idea of a sense8 au
> 
> this chapter is the bunny that bit me in the butt immediately after i realized i had a sense8 au
> 
> also the idea of rauf and elise being sword bros wouldn't leave me alone

“You’ve made your decision, then,” Altair said from behind him.

Desmond sighed and looked up and back at him. Altair stood behind him, arms crossed, and hood up as always. He wasn’t looking at Desmond but at the view. Not towards the other buildings of the Farm, but out to the forest.

There was an eagle flying above the treeline.

“Yeah,” Desmond said, and shrugged. “You here to say anything about it?”

Altair snorted, and gracefully dropped beside him. He pressed their shoulders together, firm and comforting. “Nothing but about how we’re going to do this. Despite anything else, they  _ are _ Master Assassins.”

“I thought you’d be more upset,” Desmond said.

“Like hell we are,” Evie said, appearing already seated next to him. “This place is toxic. Maybe there are reasons, but that’s no excuse for how they treat  _ anyone _ here.”

“It wasn’t as bad with you here to help,” Desmond pointed out.

“We’re always willing to help,” Aveline said. She sat next to Altair, eyes on the eagle as well.

“You are ours,” Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed, and kneeled at Desmond’s back.

Altair pressed more firmly into his shoulder, and Desmond had to lean back as not to fall to the side. “We will always protect you. But here, we shouldn’t have  _ had  _ to.” His voice was cold with anger, but none of it was directed at them. It never was.

Desmond sighed but did not refute it. He had spent the last eight years with four other Assassins in his head, and they provided valuable experience outside of the Farm. If they  _ all _ agreed that how the Farm was being run wasn’t proper, then it had to be.

“I’m going to need all the help that you can give me,” Desmond said, and turned his attention back to the forest and the eagle that flew there. It was just one of the random birds of prey in the region, but to them, it was a  _ symbol _ . Even more so than even Assassins assigned to eagles.

“We’re all going to help,” Ezio said, stepping up behind them. With him stood Jun and Elise, the only others that weren’t Assassins. “You done talking about Assassin stuff then?”

“Never,” Altair said dryly.

“It will be hard, Desmond,” Elise said, a hand on her hip as she frowned thoughtfully. “This time is more difficult, with all of the different types of surveillance and all the ways to travel.”

“I know,” Desmond said. “But I’ve been planning, this entire time, I think.” And he had, even if he didn’t do it consciously. He thought of the packed bag he had hidden in his room, full of cash, rations, weapons, and tools that he needed to  _ leave _ .

Packing had been a slow process, done over the past couple of years, but it was done. Desmond could leave  _ now _ , if he wanted. But he needed an escape route first. And it had to be improvised, because his parents would realize he had something planned if he tried.

“Well, we’ve all had our ill advised adventures,” Ezio said, cheerful. “Nothing quite as necessary as this, I think, but it’s not a bad place to start.”

“We have among us five Assassins and a Templar,” Elise said, “And those not either have their own allegiances and skills. The path will be hard, but we together make it  _ easier _ .”

Desmond felt them all press closer to him. Not physically, but with their hearts. He closed his eyes and savored it, that closeness. How they fortified his own determination with their own, and with love. They were his other selves, born in places distant both through time and space.

How they were all connected, they had no idea. They only knew their hearts and spirits were the same, and wings that didn’t exist connected them all.

“Right,” he said, and stood up. Altair, Evie, Aveline, and Ratonhnhaké:ton followed him. And then all eight were standing on the roof of the barn, their eyes watching the forest.

The eagle continued to soar.

0o0o0

Federico blinked as he watched Ezio stalk into the cell.

He had the keys in his hand, obviously stolen. He wore not the robes of an Assassin, but the hidden blade strapped to his hand told a story enough on its own. There could only be one place Ezio could have taken that from. How did he find it? Their father certainly didn’t tell him.

“Ezio?” he asked, pushing those thoughts aside. What was his brother  _ doing _ here?

Ezio looked at him, and Federico knew that he wasn’t looking at just his brother. One of the people in his head, then. An Assassin? Ezio had an Assassin in his head? Oh, that would have been nice to know  _ earlier _ . So much they could have talked about.

“Federico, I am here,” Ezio said, and held out a hand to him, ready to help Federico out of the prison cell cot. “I have already freed Father, and he is tending to Petruccio.”

“We’re going to have to talk, Ezio,” Federico said. He was almost woozy with relief that Petruccio was okay. Their youngest sibling was a sickly child, and stress wasn’t good for him. It was luck that they didn’t consider Petruccio enough of a threat to place him in a separate cell. Federico knocked his head gently against his brother’s. “About that blade on your wrist, amongst other things.”

Ezio smiled wryly at him. “Don’t be too hard on Ezio, Federico. He knew of us prior, but not of his family. He rather has some questions for you as well.”

Federico winced. Ah, that explained some things. “Who am I speaking with, if not Ezio?”

“Desmond,” Ezio said, “Though we are all here at the moment.”

“You are the one Ezio helped escape,” Federico recalled.

It was last year, or somewhere around there. He recalled asking why Ezio seemed so  _ worried _ and frantic about something. Ezio had told him about Desmond and the place that he grew up in, and why he was leaving. Though he hadn’t mentioned that Desmond was an  _ Assassin _ .

“Yes,” Desmond agreed. “We thought to let it be, since your dad is a lawyer and a banker. But we learned of traitors in your midst and refused to stand by.”

“Traitors?” Federico repeated, and winced at all the implications. He let loose several rather intense curses. Well, he was glad Father and Petruccio were elsewhere at the moment. He’d have been cuffed upside the head for that.

“Yeah, that was our reaction too,” Desmond said wryly.

“We have more to discuss than I previously mentioned,” Federico said grimly. With that, Desmond led Federico where his father and baby brother was. Things just got so much more complicated.

0o0o0

Rauf was in the training ring, as usual, when Altair came up to him. The younger man stared at him for several long seconds, as if deliberating on something. It was an expression that Rauf was familiar with.

Rauf let him do so, and moved through his stances. Slow, with no momentum to help with the weight of the sword or his own arms. His movement was deliberate, and he felt each muscle, but the tip of his sword was steady.

“Rauf,” Altair said after Rauf moved through nearly half of his routine. Ah, so Altair had finally made the decision to speak. It had been nearly a month since Rauf first felt Altair watching him.

“Yes, Altair?” Rauf asked. He didn’t stop his stances, but moved immediately to the exit. No need to rush here. And Altair didn’t try rushing him, either. He both knew better, and respected Rauf enough not to push. It’s why Rauf liked training Altair.

“...it’s not Altair,” he said. Admitted. His voice was soft, like trying to keep a secret. And though there was no accent, Rauf felt like there should be. Odd.

Rauf blinked, and looked at Altair. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword, like he was taking comfort in it, rather than implying a threat. No, that wasn’t like Altair at all, was it? “Then who am I speaking with?”

Altair glanced backwards, eyes focused as they were whenever he used his second sight. There was no color change indicating it, not like Rauf imagined there should be, but Altair’s gaze was different whenever he used it. Was he looking to see if there was anyone else around?

“Would you like to spar?” Altair asked instead.

Rauf smiled. Clever, that. Words had their place, and Rauf could say that he was confident with his. But action was important as well, and to ask for a  _ sword _ match… and none of their Brothers would think it odd. Altair and he sparred often enough regardless.

“As always,” Rauf agreed, and entered a ready stance.

Altair climbed into the training ring and pulled out his own sword. He settled into an opening stance. It was the one they all used for sparring, but the way he entered said stance was… Rauf blinked, and  _ wondered _ .

There was only a breath before Altair charged at him. And with that, Rauf countered, and followed through. The spar went on like that, and Rauf found himself challenged beyond the normal with Altair. There were familiar patterns and moves, but it seemed Altair had added some new forms to his style since they last sparred.

Incredibly odd, considering that was two days ago.

Eventually, Rauf pressed his sword to Altair’s chest, over his heart, a jabbing motion that meant his victory. Altair blinked at him, disengaged, and stepped back. Rauf watched Altair as they both went through their cooldown motions, stretching to cool their muscles.

“You are not Altair,” Rauf said quietly. “Yet you are him, as well.”

The novices and journeyman that had watched their spar were talking excitedly amongst themselves as they walked away. Rauf and Altair sparred only once when they did, so they knew not to expect anything else once a victor was declared.

“Yes,” Altair said softly. He blinked at him. “Would you meet me on the parapet?” There were many in Masyaf, both along the fortress but also the outlying walls of the village. But this was Altair, so there could only be one he meant.

“Yes,” Rauf said, and motioned for Altair to move on without him. “I am not as quick as you are. I will be up there shortly.”

Altair grinned at him. With his actual  _ mouth _ , too, instead of just his eyes. If there ever was proof of identity, Rauf mused. “I will meet you there, Brother.”

Rauf rolled his eyes and motioned him off again. Altair went, and Rauf readied himself for whatever conversation he was about to have. He also made sure that there were no novices or journeyman that wished to train with him at the moment.

It was an easy jog and an easy climb to the top of the tallest tower. The parapets were easy to reach for Assassins, who started learning to climb days after they learned to walk. Most knew that Altair had claimed the tallest tower as  _ his _ , as much as Assassins could claim anything as their own. Because of its height and location, most left it to him. The tallest towers were set out of the way, and most rarely climbed them casually. Not like the other towers, which were placed throughout the fortress and the village.

Altair sat on the edge, back pressed against another wall. He looked over Masyaf like the eagle he wished he was. Rauf smiled at the image. Umar truly did choose his child’s name correctly. It was a shame that his eyes did not change color as they should.

Rauf imagined that they would turn golden if they did.

“Rauf,” Altair said, and turned to him. He looked nervous.

“Altair,” Rauf greeted, and leaned over another wall next to him. “But  _ you _ are not Altair, are you? I wonder why you have decided to show me, when I’m not certain if even Malik knows.”

“Altair does not care to tell anyone. Not because he doesn’t trust, but because he simply doesn’t care.  _ I _ am the one who wanted to tell you,” they said.

“And who are you?” Rauf asked, eyeing this stranger. Was Altair watching them have this conversation? He had to be.

“There are eight of us,” they said, and glanced back to the center of the parapet. There was no one there, but Altair saw things no one else did with his second sight. And it seemed that this stranger shared the ability. There truly could be seven other people standing there. “I’m Elise.”

Elise. That sounded like a Christian name. Feminine as well, though Rauf was not so sure of his grasp of languages to know for certain.

“Well, it is nice to meet you, Elise. Why did you want to meet me?” Rauf asked.

Elise looked at him. “You are taking this much better than we thought, you know.” Ah, there was the accent. Elise spoke Arabic flawlessly, but now with the confirmation of her existence, affected an accent that was not there previously.

Rauf smiled at her. “We are Assassins, Elise.  _ Nothing is true _ ,”

“Everything is permitted,” Elise finished. She made a face. “ _ Assassins _ . Why me, honestly.”

“You are not?” Rauf asked curiously.

Altair seemed not to care, if the way he allowed her control of his body was any indication. She was not an enemy, though it seemed she wasn’t an  _ ally _ , either. Not to anyone not Altair, at least. And Rauf, perhaps, if what she said about wanting to meet him was true.

Elise shook her head. “No, and you best not know more than that about me, I’m afraid.”

Rauf eyed her. That was confirmation enough that if she were anyone else, she  _ would _ be an enemy. “Then why did you wish to speak to me?”

“Ah,” Elise paused and looked to the others. Well, where Rauf assumed the others were. Once again, there was no one there to his own sight.

“No need to be shy,” Rauf said amusedly. She certainly acted like Altair did when  _ he _ was shy. Not that Altair ever admitted to it.

Elise frowned at his teasing. “It’s- you’re a swordsman.”

Rauf nodded. “You are as well, if the way we sparred was any indication.”

“I am,” Elise said, relieved. Hm. There were no women in the Brotherhood. At least, not those who wore their hoods. Her hestiance made sense. “ _ That _ is why I wanted to talk to you. I learned at home, with my teacher. I also learned with Altair, when he was being taught.”

“But not as yourself, here,” Rauf guessed. It was his knowledge of Altair’s swordsman skills that allowed him to tell the difference. Those that didn’t know Altair well would not have seen the difference.

That was likely why Malik was not there to watch them. He was shrewd enough, as well as close enough, to know the difference immediately.

Elise shook her head. “No. We eight share abilities and knowledge. It’s part of the connection. But…” she trailed off.

Rauf hummed. “You wish to learn as yourself, so that you don’t need to share the knowledge with Altair.” And it seemed that Elise was enough of a swordsman that relying on that, no matter how close they were, had to grate.

“Yes,” Elise said, relieved.

“Very well,” Rauf said. “I will teach you, though it likely will not be as structured as well as actual lessons, and must be passed off as sparring. But you’ll have to do something for me as well.”

“What do you want?” Elise asked, immediately suspicious.

Ah, proper Assassin paranoia. For all that she claimed not to be one, she shared those similarities as well.

“Nothing so bad, I assure you,” Rauf said, amused, “But by your name, I can tell that you are from a distant land. I’d like to learn your own style as well.”

Elise blinked at him, and then grinned. “Oh,  _ that _ , I can do.”

“Good,” Rauf said, pleased.

0o0o0

Desmond looked up from his book. Elise sat next to him, expression distant as she thought something over. It was something like rising horror, but the  _ funny _ kind of horror. Nothing to be worried over, really. He hummed a greeting.

“The most important people in my life are Assassins.” Elise said and turned to him. “What the fuck is my life, Desmond?”

“Wonderful,” he said flatly, but smiled and nudged her shoulder. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” Elise said, and leaned into his shoulder, sighing dramatically. “And I think I should be. I would be, if our lives were anything resembling normal.”

“Even disregarding the whole sharing a soul thing, I don’t think you’d have viewed the war as a normal Templar with Arno in your life,” Desmond pointed out.

“I really wouldn’t have, would I?” Elise mused. “If it weren’t for Mother, I’d have thought it was entirely your fault.”

Desmond snorted but didn’t say anything. He understood what she meant, anyways.

“To be fair, your Templar ideologies infected us as much as we infected you,” Desmond said.

It was something they all smoothed out in the beginning, because to ignore it would let things fester. And they were too aware of how everyone felt to let that happen. As such, a lot of what they  _ believed _ in, as a group and individually, was a resolution of  _ all _ of their ideologies as a whole.

Probably why they were all considered outsiders, heretics, or revolutionaries to be honest.

“Oh, I know,” Elise said, pleased. She really was the most stubborn of them. Which truly  _ was _ a feat, considering who they all were.

Desmond rolled his eyes.

0o0o0

“You are an insulting musician,” Jun said after Ezio had put down the lyre.

Ezio frowned at her. “I  _ am _ trying, you know.”

“Not well enough, apparently,” Jun said, and grabbed it from his hands. She plucked a few chords, mindful of the differences from this string instrument to the ones she was used to.

Ezio rolled his eyes, but gave up the instrument readily. “Please don’t do that unless you expect me to keep practicing. If anyone hears you, there’ll be  _ expectations _ .”

Jun smirked at him and continued playing. She played a simple song, one that she could easily translate to the lyre from the instruments she was more familiar with. It was a challenge to transcribe it for a new instrument, but the chords were recognizable.

“Jun, no!” Ezio hissed, and tried to grab it from her.

Jun dipped out of the way, and kept playing. It was easy to dodge Ezio. He was fast, and a good climber, as befitted his job as courier. But he wasn’t training like Jun trained, and his hands barely skimmed her clothing as she danced around him.

She wondered how long it would take him to realize that she  _ was _ training him.

Eh, Jun would give it a year. Ezio was smart, but he could be incredibly dense at times.

0o0o0

Aveline met Jun not a month after she met Altair. It was both expected and exciting. It was like meeting Altair made her more  _ aware _ of the others. She had felt them all her life, she realized, but it was a distant sort of feeling. It was something she had taken for granted. Now, it was as if she was feeling them all properly.

Like Altair explained, their wings may not exist physically, but they existed all the same. And the promise of meeting others like herself was wonderful.

And so, Aveline found herself looking forward to meeting the next one. Soon enough, one day she found herself in long and grand hallways. There were large silk tapestries hung on the walls, and the wood was painted. Outside, it was raining, much like it was at her home.

“Oh,” a soft voice said from behind her.

Aveline turned to look, and saw another girl.

She was- oriental, perhaps, though Aveline hadn’t seen anyone from there before. Her skin was pale but warm, and her hair and eyes were so dark they shone silver under the light. She wore what looked like silk robes in what Aveline  _ knew _ to be training colors and style.

“Hello,” Aveline grinned at her, and hopped lightly in place. “My name is Aveline.”

“Jun,” the other said. She didn’t smile with her face, really, but her eyes  _ shone _ . Like Altair, she realized. Jun looked up and down the hallway. “Come. I will take us to a place where we can speak freely.”

With that Jun walked briskly down the hallways, leading Aveline through a maze. Jun knew where she was going, and so Aveline knew as well. The hallways twisted and turned, and Aveline realized that this was a fortress, dressed up prettily with silks and paintings.

Jun stopped to talk with some other people, girls both her age and older. Aveline stood right there with her, and none of them paid attention to her. That made sense. Their hearts and spirits and wings were what connected them, so those without wouldn’t be able to see.

After the small talk, Jun led Aveline up a rather large tree just past the balcony. It wasn’t as high as the towers of Masyaf, but it certainly felt high enough, with a cliff just past the fortress wall on the other side of the courtyard.

“Aveline,” Jun said when they settled up there in the canopy, “It is nice to meet you.”

“Yes!” Aveline agreed. “You’re the second one I’ve met so far. And in such a different place, too! Masyaf is in a desert.”

“I went to a forest, for my first visit. It had different trees than here, and even the wind tasted different. I didn’t ask Ratonhnhaké:ton for the name, though,” Jun told her.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton? Is that another one of us?” Aveline asked.

Jun nodded. “Yes. I did not get to see where he lived, though. I met him in a tree like mine.”

“I met Altair in Masyaf. In a tower, actually, with landings open to the sky. They train there to become  _ something _ ,” Aveline frowned. “I don’t know what, though. I forgot to ask, and it’s such a big feeling that I don’t quite  _ know _ what it means.”

Jun nodded like she understood. She likely did. “I think I would like to meet him,” Jun said.

“You will. And I will meet Ratonhnhaké:ton, and all of the others we have yet to meet.” Aveline promised.

“You feel that there are others?” Jun asked. She tilted her head. “No, there are definitely others. But how many do you think?”

“Between us, we know that there are four,” Aveline said. She thought about it and  _ felt _ for all the directions she realized her wings could take her. The places she felt her other selves minds come into contact with her own. It was still relatively new, so it wasn’t as accurate as it could be. As it  _ would _ be, once she trained it. But… “Less than ten of us, but still more.”

“I look forward to meeting all of them,” Jun said. She smiled again, this time with her lips as well as her eyes. “And keeping in touch with you, as I do Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

Aveline grinned, pleased. “Of course!”

0o0o0

Ratonhnhaké:ton closed his eyes and  _ focused _ , extending his senses to beyond just his body. Then, he opened his eyes, and watched as the world was shown in the way his eyes translated the awareness.

The world was washed out, shades of black and white layered over everything. Living things were represented with colors, but they were faint, neutral in all things. Sometimes their colors were deeper as they interacted with him, but that didn’t happen much.

No, it was the people that were vibrant in color. They were in four primary colors. Blue, for friends. Red, for enemies. Gold, for  _ interesting _ things. White, for those that had information. Those for that were none of those things matched the washed out colors of the rest of the world, with only a faint outline that marked them as people.

And that was the simplest way of it, too. His people had stories, going back generations, of those with this talent. They talked of colors in more depths, or of seeing things long past. Of being able to know what people were thinking. There were some that could use it to track others, like a wolf tracked its prey. And even those without conventional sight, who developed the awareness of the world.

Ratonhnhaké:ton wasn’t strong enough for his sight to develop nuance yet, but he was certain that he would grow into those abilities.

“Oh,” Aveline said, eyes wide as she leaned into the understanding he was lending her. “Is that- is that what this is?”

“It’s our second sight,” Ratonhnhaké:ton confirmed.

He watched as the others all watched the world in the same manner.

All save Elise had the ability to watch the world in this manner. He often wondered why only she didn’t, but it had to be to keep  _ them _ alert. Their second sight was impressive and useful, but it wouldn’t help if they became so reliant on it that they couldn’t use their other skills.

His mother made sure he understood that. Ratonhnhaké:ton’s grandmother had the skill, as did his father, but it skipped his mother. And still she held her own despite it all. She was the one that taught Ratonhnhaké:ton to discern what his second sight was telling him  _ without _ it.

“The Masters call it the sight of eagles, and that we reach for their aid to see the world,” Altair said, blinking out beyond the eight of them. He had the strongest vision of them. He said people radiated colored smoke, and that even  _ blue _ people could breathe  _ red _ smoke, and vice versa. It was much more nuanced than what the others said that they had.

“Because it works best from heights, doesn’t it,” Jun said, looking around the clearing that Ratonhnhaké:ton had led them to. “I always seemed to  _ see _ whenever I climbed up.”

“The Assassins call it Eagle Vision,” Evie offered, blinking golden eyes at them. “At least, the ones I’m with do.”

“It’s giving me a headache,” Elise said, rubbing at her eyes.

“It gives us all a headache, honestly,” Desmond said, and started running his hands through her hair. She sighed and leaned back into him. “At least at first. You probably have it worse, since you’re sharing with Ezio.”

“I wonder what else we can use it for?” Ezio asked, wrapping Elise into a hug. “And if we can share the particular way we use it. Altair sees smoke and haze, but I see people light up as if they themselves were lanterns.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton hummed thoughtfully. He saw people as shades, like their skin and clothes were the color itself. It seemed that they all interpreted their second sight differently. That could be useful. “We can certainly try.”

0o0o0

 


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when you have four girls in your head that can kick your ass, you wonder why everyone thinks they're so fragile or incapable. and those four girls are doing their darndest best to make sure they question societies treatment of them at all levels
> 
> also introducing headcanon about eagle vision, the women assassins in history, and how many languages they know... which may or may not come up later lol
> 
> and even if i'm not taking this seriously it doesn't mean that plot doesn't happen or there aren't ideas of what's going on~

“How many languages do you  _ know _ , Evie?” Jacob asked. They were on the roof, enjoying the brisk breeze in the hot summer sun. Their father made them go through their morning exercises, but had been kind enough to let them loose before the sun hit its zenith.

“What?” Evie asked, taken from her sun-sleepy haze, and looked to him.

Jacob huffed in amusement at her. “You speak different languages, do you know that? Not all the time, but often enough.”

“Really?” Evie asked, “I didn’t notice.” Mostly because Jacob always understood her. There was no reason to keep track of which language Evie spoke when the person closest to her didn’t need her to.

“I hadn’t realized,” Jacob rolled his eyes. “But really, how many? Because I watch you study languages here, but sometimes you’ll speak something I don’t recognize.”

Evie tilted her head and considered the question. That meant Jacob understood her heart, rather than the words. She had to work on that. “Do you mean me, myself, or me, us?”

Jacob hummed. “Tell me both.”

“Well, I know four languages, including English. I’m planning on adding Arabic in the future, if only because of the history there,” Evie said.

“French, German, and Italian, right?” Jacob asked. Evie nodded; Jacob also knew those languages passably, if only so they could communicate no matter what. Probably why she never realized he didn’t understand her words as often as he implied. “And all together?”

Evie paused and  _ reached _ … all of them knew more than one language, either through lessons or just growing up around it. Altair knew the most at eight, being fluent in five and working on another three. Jun knew the least at two, because Desmond was raised bilingual and was working on Arabic independently.

Hm… if she were to include all of them, even the ones that they were still learning and not quite fluent in... Altair had eight, Aveline had four, Ezio had four, Jun had two, Ratonhnhaké:ton had four, Elise had four, Evie had four, and Desmond had three.

But they overlapped, didn’t they? Or could Evie count the variations that time gave them? No, she could only do that for Altair. He was distant enough that his languages were different, even if they were considered the same language.

Evie hummed in thought as she counted. “All together… I’d say twenty one? Yes, together we know twenty one languages.”

Jacob whistled appreciatively. “Bit jealous of that, yeah.”

“Don’t have to be,” Evie rolled her eyes, and poked him in the shoulder. “I understand just fine, and we share a heart.”

Jacob punched her in the shoulder in retaliation, frowning exaggeratedly. Still, Jacob was Jacob, and Evie was Evie. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was pleased.

0o0o0

“It’s not really fair, you know,” Jun said solemnly as she helped Desmond clean and tend to his newly busted lip.

He worked as a busboy and half-way bouncer at a bar, but this was the first time anyone had managed to get a jump on him. Which was the most embarrassing part of this entire adventure, honestly. Well, that was lesson learned. Sometimes sheer dumb luck trumped all the skill in the world.

“Oh, it’s really not,” Elise agreed, arms crossed. She looked stern, but she radiated amusement.

“I’m sorry?” Desmond offered tentatively. They were making fun of him, weren’t they. He prepared himself for whatever punchline they had coming his way.

“Not your fault,” Jun promised, “But it does seem like the world likes tormenting you.”

“I thought that was just you guys,” Desmond said, because that was true. Most other people he knew were coworkers and casual acquaintances.

“Well, that too,” Elise smiled. Desmond eyed her warily, because that smile never meant good things. “But we meant that you’re going to scar there.”

Desmond blinked and- “Oh, come  _ on _ , really?!”

“Yes,” Jun said firmly, unkindly, and way too amused. Why did he like her again? “You are once again going to look identical to Altair.”

“No!” Desmond whined. “But we were so happy when he got his scar!” And for a couple of glorious years, they  _ weren’t _ identical at first glance.

“When I got what?” Altair asked, appearing behind him, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Probably  _ just _ woke up from his nap, having felt them talk about him. Then he looked at Desmond and frowned. “ _ Why _ ,” he said severely.

“I don’t know!” Desmond whined more. “I didn’t ask to be hit in the face with a glass!”

“But  _ why there _ ?” Altair asked flatly.

“Because the universe hates us, apparently,” Ezio grumbled as he appeared next to Elise. His lip was also freshly scarred, already a few weeks old. Ezio wasn’t identical like Desmond and Altair were, but he looked like them  _ just enough _ that the scar accentuated the similarities.

“I’m more interested in seeing if Ratonhnhaké:ton gets a scar to match, honestly,” Evie said amusedly as she appeared, drawn by the conversation. She eyed Ratonhnhaké:ton as he appeared at the mention of his name.

Ratonhnhaké:ton blinked, and then glanced between Desmond, Altair, and Ezio. “I think not.”

“You sure you won’t feel left out?” Elise teased, reaching out to poke at said spot on his lip.

“I am absolutely certain. I don’t look like them, after all.” Ratonhnhaké:ton said firmly, leaning away from Elise’s hand.

“Lucky,” Desmond groused. And then winced as Jun pressed the butterfly bandage to his face.

Aveline appeared last, having been drawn by the group. She watched Jun patch Desmond’s face up. Then she looked between Desmond, Altair, and Ezio. And started laughing.

0o0o0

Ezio grabbed Aveline’s hands when she appeared, and quickly spun her in a circle. She followed the motion, dress flaring around her legs, and let herself be dipped backwards. Ezio kept a firm grip on her back, and then pulled her back up.

“Not that I mind, Ezio, but what are we doing?” Aveline asked, moving her hands so that they were in proper form. It was automatic at this point. Lessons had to be good for something, right?

“Dancing!” Ezio said cheerfully. “I need to practice, and Elise is busy right now.”

Aveline laughed and moved them into a different style. Something energetic that fit both of their moods. Ezio followed her lead without thinking. “Well, we may as well keep at it, right?”

Ezio grinned, “Yes!”

0o0o0

“Masyaf has concubines?” Jun asked, peering through the doorway that led to the garden.

Altair had led her towards the lower quarters of the fortress, where the women who came for assignment were stationed. The women Assassins had a wildly different skill set than their hooded brethren, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. It just so happened that the entrance was past the garden. Supposedly, that was to hide the purpose to outsiders. If the women all went to the gardens, then they were all women  _ of _ the gardens.

“No,” Altair said, “they are healers, mostly.”

At least, that was how their presence was explained to him. Altair didn’t question it. His own experiences with his other selves showed that hearts and spirits needed taking care of just as readily as the body did. Though the women of the gardens were also skilled physicians as well, they were rarely used as such.

“I’m going to talk to them,” Jun said firmly.

“Can you?” Altair asked.

“I’m certainly going to  _ try _ ,” Jun said, and walked forward.

Altair followed her readily, curious about what the women of the gardens were like. They weren’t working Assassins, not like the Sisters, but they always smoked  _ golden _ the few times he managed to look at them with his second sight. They were incredibly important in a way that he wasn’t familiar with.

“You aren’t supposed to be here, are you?” a soft voice asked when Jun managed to move past the silk drapes that covered the doors.

Altair and Jun startled, not expecting that. Quickly, they looked around and saw six women in the garden, lounging around or working on small tasks. All of them had a clear line of sight to the entrance.

“She’s looking at you,” Altair said. Curious, he took a few steps forward and waved his arms. None of them looked to him. “We can actually switch places?”

Jun didn’t answer Altair, instead saying “I’m not, I don’t think.”

Another woman sat up from where she was lounging and looked at Jun. “You wear the clothes of an Assassin in training, yet you are not one.”

Altair glanced at Jun. She wore her training clothes, but her silk robes were those that people in her home country wore. The belt was similar to what Assassin’s wore around their waist, maybe, but it definitely couldn’t be mistaken for their robes.

“I am,” Jun said after a long second.

It seemed that although  _ Jun _ was the one interacting with people, they still only saw Altair. Well, there was that theory proven at least. They all felt it was true, but hadn’t put it to practice before.

“No, you aren’t,” another woman said. This one was older than the others, with the hair along her temples starting to gray. The master of the gardens? Though they all answered to the Mentor, each sect in Masyaf had a master. “What is your name?”

“This is Altair, I believe,” a woman who was sewing some silks said, barely glancing up from her work in the corner. “At least, the body presented to us is.”

Altair and Jun looked at each other for several long seconds. This was definitely more than either of them had expected.

“What can you tell?” Jun asked.

The oldest woman smiled, and her eyes lightened to  _ gold _ .

Both Altair and Jun startled at the shift, instinctively pulling up their own second sight. To Altair, the woman  _ breathed _ golden, and it was like she was bathed in sunlight. They stared at each other for a moment before the woman let go her second sight.

“What?” Jun breathed, shocked into near silence.

“The second sight is not limited to bloodlines, or groups of people, or masters of craft,” the woman said, and moved forward to press her hands gently to Jun’s shoulders. On Altair’s shoulders. “Even those of us that are seemingly unworthy of the ability have it.”

Jun and Altair frowned at the self-depreciation. “Nothing is true, and everything is permitted, Sister,” Jun said, repeating the adage.

The older woman smiled, pleased. “Indeed. I am Isra, and you are not Altair.”

“...He is here, though,” Jun said softly, glancing to him. Isra followed her glance, but though her gaze landed on Altair, she didn’t  _ see _ him. “I am Jun.”

“Jun?” Isra repeated. “That is a good name, I feel. Now, care to tell me why the two of you came in here?”

“I was curious,” Jun said simply, “I haven’t seen many women here.” She meant in the castle, of course. There were plenty of women in Masyaf.

Isra hummed thoughtfully. “I see. Well, there is much to discuss, then, isn’t there?”

“Are we allowed?” Jun asked. She leaned over and grabbed Altair’s hand. The women watched, and Altair wondered what they saw, if they only saw one of them. “I am Jun, but Altair is still here, and we will not be separated.”

“No, that would not be fair to either of you,” Isra said. She eyed Jun, and the space that Altair occupied. That was a plotting glance, but this was a master of Masyaf. They were still children, so the attention was almost a relief. “But there is still much to discuss.”

Altair and Jun glanced at each other. “We would be honored, Sister.”

0o0o0

Ezio clicked his tongue in gentle reprimand, and moved Claudia’s arm into a safer position. “No, you can’t extend too far. You don’t want to hurt your elbow.”

Claudia nodded and threw another punch against his hand. She really did take to training much more easily than Ezio did.  _ Especially _ since Claudia didn’t have the benefit of seven other people helping her.

Ezio didn’t know why Federico didn’t bring Claudia for climbing expeditions through Florence like he did Ezio. Sure, Claudia had to learn things from their mother that the brothers didn’t have to focus on, but she still had more free time than they did. It’d be easy to take Claudia out. Either through the city, or even to the rooftops, if Federico didn’t feel like teaching her to fight. Ezio had to start teaching her, if Federico wasn’t going to. Ezio agreed that Claudia shouldn’t be getting  _ into _ fights, but she should know how to defend herself at they very least.

And climbing the rooftops was another matter entirely. It would have to be in the morning, when they were both free. They’d have to be careful though, the mornings were cool and left the roofs covered in dew. He didn’t want them to slip.

Claudia huffed a breath and relaxed her arm. “Ezio?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you helping me?” she asked.

“Because you are my sister?” Ezio offered. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.”

“Yes, that. Father and Federico and even Mother refuse to let me fight, but you are here, helping me learn how to throw a punch,” Claudia said. She held up her fist in demonstration.

“Well, they’re dumb,” Ezio said, shrugging, even as he winced at the blatant disregard towards his family. Even if it was him saying it. “And I’ve got girls in my head, you know? It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself.”

Claudia nodded thoughtfully. “Like Elise?”

Ezio tilted his head, reaching. Aveline, Evie, Elise, and Jun stepped out from nothing. Elise grinned at them, and the others certainly looked excited at the sudden meeting. Claudia already knew of Elise, that much was a given. But Ezio hadn’t really brought up the others as a group before.

“Yes,” Ezio said, and nodded to them. Claudia glanced over, but saw nothing. Still, she kept staring as if she would. Maybe if she developed the second sight like Ezio? He knew that his father had it, though he rarely felt the need to use it at home. “They are here, if you want to meet them.”

Claudia’s eyes lit up. Ezio grinned at her. There certainly were worse people for his sister to meet.

0o0o0

Ratonhnhaké:ton rubbed at his eyes, blinking tired tears from them. He had just been released from the vision that the crystal gave him. Even now it whispered secrets into his mind. Not like his other selves, who existed always, but something  _ else _ . It gave Ratonhnhaké:ton a headache.

“I don’t trust her,” Altair said bluntly, arms at his side.

He glared at Oiá:ner, but his ire wasn’t directed at her. No, it was at the spirit that told Ratonhnhaké:ton to find the Assassins, and had given him a map to do so.

“I don’t either,” Evie said, appearing. She bit her lip in worry. “That crystal is likely an artifact from Those Who Came Before.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton blinked at her. He thanked Oiá:ner and quickly left the hut. He wasn’t shy about letting his people know that he spoke with people that only he could see, but this was going to need to be a private conversation. He could just  _ tell _ that already.

“Those Who Came Before?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

“An ancient people, precursors to humanity,” Evie said. Her voice gained the cadence she had when she explained things. It was similar to how Oiá:ner spoke, and Ratonhnhaké:ton knew where Evie learned to speak like that. “They were highly advanced and created technology that even Desmond doesn’t have access to. Some are just interesting objects. Some, though… well, they’re the main reason that Assassins and Templars have been fighting since the beginning.”

“The Pieces of Eden,” Elise said, appearing as well. She frowned heavily.

“What are those?” Altair demanded.

Elise and Evie shared a long, grim glance. The two of them shared more knowledge between them than they did the others. They were both interested in information and learning new things, regardless of where that information came from. Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned, waiting for a proper explanation. Altair glared at them impatiently.

“They are artifacts,” Elise said after a moment. “Great pieces of technology that have abilities that can be mistaken for magic.”

“Why are they called Pieces of Eden?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

“Because that’s the first reference we have of its use and existence,” Evie explained, “The Apple, which cast out Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden. We can only assume that it was a great city, whose existence was warped as generations passed after said event.”

“The Apples of Eden are also  _ what _ Assassins and Templars have been fighting over, alongside the other Pieces of Eden,” Elise said.

“What do they do?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

Elise and Evie shared another look. “Primarily, they affect the mind,” Evie said.

“Mind control,” Elise said bluntly. “Which is  _ why _ the Assassin-Templar War exists. It also has its other uses. Illusions, knowledge- there are also records of them being used as power sources.”

Altair stared hard at them. Then he sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ratonhnhaké:ton knew just as well as he that it was no lie. It was just a lot to take in, was all.

“We  _ all _ need to talk about this,” Altair said firmly. He looked to Ratonhnhaké:ton. “Find the Assassins or not, the choice is yours.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded. He already made his decision. They  _ needed _ more information, more than what Elise and Evie had access to. And perhaps the spirit had a reason to send him in the direction of the Assassins. “I will go.”

0o0o0

Jun hummed a song as she prepared for the day. It was going to be a busy day, and Jun needed to look a certain way so that she could spy properly. As such, Aveline was with her with her hair, makeup, and clothes.

“You know we would help you leave, if you asked,” Aveline said, working Jun’s hair.

Ah, but they were both envious of Evie and Elise, who only put so much effort into their hair for formal events. Any other time, and braids and half-up styles were enough. Or even better, the boys, whose hair could be either cut shorn, or just combed through.

“I know,” Jun replied, voice soft. She shivered as Aveline tugged at the hair at the nape of her neck. “That’s why I’m not asking.”

Aveline smiled sadly. “You are amazing at what you do, Jun. The Emperor may be childish, but he recognizes your skill. And for good reason. You can  _ leave _ .”

“I know,” Jun repeated. “And I know why you keep offering, when you can.”

“Yes,” Aveline said softly. “And I will keep offering, so you do not forget.”

“I will never forget,” Jun said resolutely. “Not with you here, or the others.”

Aveline leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jun’s temple. “Still, I will keep offering.”

Jun smiled faintly, though Aveline could only feel it. “Yes, I know.”

0o0o0

Elise climbed into Altair’s bed, and turned on her side so look at him. Altair glared blearily at her, but moved to mirror her so that they faced each other. Elise studied him critically, comparing his current appearance to what she could remember of him just last week. His face was pale with stress, his usual tan gone. His eyes were clear, but he had bags under his eyes. He  _ looked _ tired.

“What are you doing?” Altair asked her tersely, voice hoarse. He sounded like he had been crying. Which was completely understandable.

Elise leveled a look at Altair. The reaction was familiar, and she did not bother to point it out to him. “You kept me company when my mother died.”

“Desmond told you,” Altair stated, frowning.

“No,” Elise denied, though she was pleased at the new information. They all knew he went  _ somewhere _ , because he had put up a wall for several days after Umar died. It seemed that Altair went to Desmond. Elise didn’t know if that was surprising or not. “We all liked your father, you know. We miss him too.”

Altair blinked, and then huffed, rubbing at his eyes.

Elise reached out and grabbed his hand, clearing the tears herself. He leaned closer to her touch. “The ache never goes away. You just get used to it. But you are mine, and I am yours, and we will always be here, you know? Having you there made it easier, so make sure to lean on us.”

“Yeah,” Altair agreed softly, and curled up closer to Elise.

Elise watched in approval, and then  _ reached _ to her closest other self. There was a shift as Ezio appeared as well. He was stretched out, but curled up towards Altair’s back when he sensed the warmth. Ezio kept sleeping, and didn’t wake up to his new surroundings. She supposed they were lucky that they were all small enough that Altair’s bed fit them all comfortably.

Altair rolled his eyes, but he  _ felt _ softer. Good. Elise smiled at him, and curled closer to him as well. Their foreheads brushed against each other. With Elise in front of him, and Ezio at his back, and their other selves a warm presence, Altair closed his eyes and fell asleep.

0o0o0

“Desmond,” Jun said urgently, grabbing Desmond by the arm, forcing him to stop on his jog.

“What’s the matter?” Desmond asked, blinking at her. She wasn’t alarmed, so he didn’t feel the need to react otherwise.

“ _ That _ ,” Jun pointed at a poster.

It was one of the many kinds that dotted New York, and other large cities. Desmond had found them interesting for the first week he had been there, much like he had been interested in literally  _ everything _ outside of the Farm. But they had faded to background visual noise after a while.

“Which one?” Desmond asked, stepping out of the way of the sidewalk so that the crowds could move past him. Ha, he had learned  _ that _ pretty quickly.

“That one,” Jun repeated.

Desmond looked and- yes, there it was. It was a poster for a dance class. The silhouette of a dancer was filled in with tye dye of vibrant blues and greens and pinks. It was bright and colorful and caught the attention. They were advertising the first class for free that coming Saturday. It was an attempt at bringing in more people, then.

“You want to go,” Desmond said, eyeing it thoughtfully.

Dancers, disregarding if they knew how to fight or not, could kick anyone’s ass. Probably even Assassins. Most of them hid their physical prowess, their entire skill set designed to make what they did look easy. Make it look graceful, and make the dancer look fragile.

Jun hid herself behind her concubine training. Her dancing and her music. And yet, despite it all, she was the deadliest of the eight of them. Not the most dangerous, or the most brutal, or even the best fighter. But the  _ deadliest _ .

“Desmond,” Jun prodded, looking hopefully at him.

“Yes,” Desmond said slowly, thinking it over. “Let’s try, at least.”

0o0o0

Desmond, Evie, and Elise watched as Ezio’s mother introduced him to a blond painter. Maria Auditore was ever a patron of the arts, and she often funded artists or introduced them to other influential people. So, the scene itself wasn’t that odd.

But… “That’s Leonardo da Vinci,” Desmond said, staring intently.

Ezio interacted with Leonardo as if he wasn’t any more important compared to the other painters his mother introduced him to. And why should he think so? This was Leonardo during life, not the famous inventor and artist that history taught them about.

“This is one of the things we’re going to forget, isn’t it,” Evie said, rubbing at her temples.

“Yes,” Elise agreed, and crossed her arms to hide how much she fidgeted.

Like the fact that their Altair was  _ Altair Ibn-La’Ahad _ , who rebirthed the Order as it was known to them all. Or that Ezio was  _ Ezio Auditore da Firenze _ , Mentor of the Italian Brotherhood. Or that Ratonhnhaké:ton would rebuild the American Brotherhood from the ground up.

Or any number of things that only Desmond knew the true extent of. Evie and Elise very carefully didn’t think about how Desmond could find out all of their fates. How they would live their lives in their futures, and how they would die.

“I don’t know how you keep quiet,” Evie said, winding an arm through Desmond’s.

“I don’t,” Desmond said. “Like you said, we forget whenever we start thinking about literally anything else.”

“It’s either a blessing or a curse,” Elise said, winding her arm through Desmond’s free arm.

“Neither, I think,” Desmond said thoughtfully, “But rather a build up. To something.”

“We’d best get our answers someday,” Evie said, voice firm. “I don’t like not knowing.”

“None of us do,” Elise agreed.

“But, still, while we remember,” Desmond said, nodding his head towards the Ezio, Maria, and the blond painter. “That’s  _ Leonardo da Vinci _ .”

“I  _ know _ !” Evie and Elise chorused, their excitement mirrored exactly. Then all three of them looked at each other and started giggling.

0o0o0

“Ranks are stupid,” Altair said, arms crossed. He and his other selves watched the novices train in the courtyard below. He watched Kadar, who would have risen in rank ages ago had his skill and general experience been counted instead of how they handled it. “They are understandable, and make it clear where a person stands. Yet.”

“Everyone develops differently, so it doesn’t allow their true skills to shine” Aveline agreed, tapping a pattern on her lips. “If the way the rank was gained was looser, sure. But right now you’ve got strict rules, and that’s what causes the chokehold.”

“But getting rid of the ranking system entirely would be foolish. Assassins in a group will know their own skills, but it doesn’t facilitate communication between sects,” Desmond pointed out.

“There should be clear divisions between Novice, Journeyman, and Masters,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said thoughtfully, “That way they’re not under or over utilized, or given missions that go beyond their skill level. It would also create an easy understanding between strangers, to know where they stand and how they can work together.”

Altair hummed in thought, thinking it over. “Yes, that does sound ideal. Depending on how secretive a group needs to be, adding other information tags that show specialties might be added as well.”

“Like girl scout patches,” Desmond said, “But it’d have to be something that can be hidden amongst the regular accessories, so that enemies wouldn’t be able to find the pattern.”

“We could also discuss adding Masteries in different groups,” Jun said. “I am a Master in my own skills, but am only learning what Assassins would consider the proper skillset. The red sash of a Master Assassin could be applied to other specialties. But perhaps they can be worn differently?”

“Beads might be a possibility,” Aveline added, fingering the red beads that dotted the end of her thin braids. Ratonhnhaké:ton also tapped the beads of his armband. “They’re easy to come by, and most cultures and countries around the world have a version of it.”

Behind them, Rauf rolled his eyes. Altair and his other selves had started splitting their shared voice so he didn’t miss the majority of the conversation. Especially when they started discussing how they would change how certain things of the Order were run. He was grateful of their trust, sure, but Rauf didn’t think they understood how  _ odd _ it was…

0o0o0


	4. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a n8v person Ratonhnhaké:ton was my fave the moment i knew of his existence so i sort of project on him lol
> 
> also i realized i had been using aveline as an emotionally stable prop so i had to write more about her
> 
> also plot is hitting me in the face, and it's kind of obvs in this chapter, so it's probably gonna come up sooner than later. i'd been trying to generally ignore it but here it comes lol
> 
> ps, they're family and they love each other guys. it can never be too sappy. never ever

It took some doing, but Ratonhnhaké:ton managed to find himself standing in front of the Mentor of the Colonial Assassins. All seven of his other selves were there as well, as they always were when anything of importance happened in their lives. Altair, Evie, and Desmond were especially interested, as the ones who were born into the Order of Assassins.

“My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton,” he introduced himself.

“Well,” the old Assassin said slowly, “I’m not even going to try and pronounce that. What are you doing here?”

Ratonhnhaké:ton stared at him, somewhat confused. His name wasn’t  _ that _ hard. Sure, the soft consonants would be difficult for someone who only spoke English, but the actual pronunciation? Evie didn’t have any trouble, and her accent was much thicker than the old Assassin’s.

But there was a question that needed answer.

“I was told to seek this symbol,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, pulling out the map with the Assassin insignia placed on it. He knew what it meant because his other selves. But there was no reason Ratonhnhaké:ton, himself, would know it. So until he got a better measure of the old Assassin, it would be best to pretend ignorance.

The old Assassin was blue under his second sight, but Altair told Ratonhnhaké:ton that the old man carried red on him like he viewed himself as an enemy. A potential ally, yes, but it would not be an easily made relationship. Ratonhnhaké:ton would just have to move forward, like he always did.

The old Assassin made a face. “Do you even know what this  _ means _ ?”

“No,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, but thought about it. Could he tell him or not?

“Trust, Ratonhnhaké:ton,” Altair said, watching the old Assassin with golden eyes. “This is a Mentor, for all that his Order has been killed. That kind of grief doesn’t go away.”

Yes. Trust was key, and trust should not be a one-sided thing. Ratonhnhaké:ton spoke hesitantly, aware that how he viewed spirits might be different from how others viewed them. “The spirit said… that I have-”

Ratonhnhaké:ton stopped when the old Assassin let out a long and loud sigh. There was a lot of history in that sigh. Everyone blinked as the old Assassin pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose, like he was tired of the conversation already.

“These spirits of yours have been harassing the Assassins for centuries, ever since Ezio uncorked the bottle,” the old Assassin said plainly.

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s eyes widened in surprise.

“ _ Ezio _ ?” Elise repeated. They all turned to Ezio. Ratonhnhaké:ton just barely managed to keep his eyes on the old Assassin. “Did he mean you?”

“I have no idea!” Ezio exclaimed, holding his hands up. “It’s probably a different Ezio! My name is uncommon, but not  _ unique _ ! I’m not even an Assassin!”

“But you don’t even know what the Assassins are, do you?” the old Assassin asked, ignorant of the commotion he just caused.

Ratonhnhaké:ton stared wide-eyed at him, unsure how to explain that he  _ did _ know what Assassin’s were. He was just confused about the mention of  _ Ezio _ . It had to be a different one, right? Italians and Europeans in general didn’t have unique names like his own people did.

Ratonhnhaké:ton simply shook his head.

“Well, best settle in, then,” the old Assassin said, motioning to an intact chair. “I’ve got a story to tell, and it’ll take a bit to get out…”

0o0o0

Aveline appeared in France, and found Elise on a balcony, the one above the secluded courtyard where she trained with her swordsman teacher. Arno was currently in the courtyard, practicing on his own. Aveline eyed him critically; he was getting better. A testament to his teacher’s skill, or his wanting to keep up with Elise?

She didn’t bother asking Elise what was wrong. Aveline didn’t  _ know _ , but she didn’t  _ not _ know, either. All that mattered was that Elise needed company and someone to talk to, and the wings they bore decided that Aveline was the best bet for it.

Elise eventually let out a loud, long sigh. She rubbed her eyes with her hands, and turned away from the courtyard. She led Aveline inside where they sat on a loveseat. Elise wasn’t crying, but she did look despondent.

“Elise, darling, what’s wrong?” Aveline asked, taking one of Elise’s hands in her own.

“Ezio is going to become an Assassin,” Elise said. She blinked wet eyes at Aveline. “I  _ knew _ it, his father is so clearly a Master. The Auditore are clearly a family of Assassins. Ezio learned of it when we went to free his father and brothers from prison. And yet…”

“Oh,  _ Elise _ ,” Aveline said, and pulled her into a hug. “We like to joke about it, don’t we? That you’re the only Templar among Assassins. But it clearly weighs more heavily on you than you’ve let on.”

Elise sighed and clung to Aveline. “Not always. I love you, I really, truly do. But Ezio isn’t just another self, he’s  _ me _ . And-”

“You hoped that he would follow you to the Templars,” Aveline finished.

“Yes,” Elise agreed. She swallowed and then said quietly, as if admitting a secret, “Ezio  _ would _ follow me, if I asked.”

“He would,” Aveline agreed. Elise and Ezio were the closest of them all. “But you won’t ask, will you?”

“No. It would go against everything we believe in,” Elise said. She leaned away from Aveline to look at her clearly. “And that’s not just us, sharing. It’s my mother too.”

“It doesn’t help that Arno is training to become an Assassin as well, does it?” Aveline asked after a slight pause at the mention of Elise’s mother.

“Not really, no,” Elise said wryly, and rubbed at her eyes again. “I knew that he would become one after Father told me of  _ his _ family, but I don’t think I thought it through all the way.”

“We never do,” Aveline sighed, “For a bunch of people spread through time, we sure don’t bother thinking about the future.”

Elise laughed lightly. “It’s because we’re spread through time that we don’t. It doesn’t matter if you can just ask, right?”

“Not really,” Aveline agreed, pleased with the turn in conversation. Oh, they’d talk about it later, she was certain, but they had time for that.

0o0o0

Ines watched Desmond as he settled down for his writing lessons. He spoke both English and Spanish, of course, and wrote well in both. They wouldn’t allow for anything less. But he was also learning Arabic, and their writing system had an entirely different alphabet. Desmond took to the language as if he was born speaking it, though he had issues with translating to and from Arabic.

She watched, and waited, because-  _ ah, there it is _ . Desmond turned to the side slightly. If Ines turned her thoughts sideways and ignored what her eyes were telling her, she could tell that there was someone there. That Desmond  _ believed  _ was there, and interacted with. Ines could see the way his eyes tracked movement, and the way his head tilted to hear someone speaking.

And, yes, there Desmond went, writing something carefully down. He even went back and edited some of his previous work. Desmond bit his lip in concentration as he continued his worksheet, keeping in mind what this invisible person told him.

“Desmond,” she called, bringing attention to herself.

Desmond jerked lightly and looked up, almost guiltily, as he glanced to the side. “Yes, Mama?”

“Are you almost done?” Ines asked.

“I’m halfway done,” Desmond said, guiltily again. “I’m doing my best.”

Ines hummed. “I can see that. But remember, there will come a time where you have to sacrifice clarity for speed. You won’t always have the time to do your work as you are.”

Desmond made a face. Ines raised an eyebrow, and he quickly smoothed it out, getting rid of the visible emotion. He felt so strongly that training him to  _ hide _ it was something of a challenge on its own. Ines had faith that he could do it; she remembered her own issues with it when she was younger.

“So I just have to get good enough that I can go fast anyways?” Desmond asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Ines said, pleased. She didn’t like pushing her child, but needs must.

“Okay,” Desmond said. Then he nodded firmly to himself, as if coming to a decision, and went back to his work. “I’m going to finish.”

“Good,” Ines said. And she knew that Desmond would keep to that promise. So young, and he knew to never make a promise he couldn’t keep.

She watched, and waited until she was certain that Desmond and his invisible friend were focused on Desmond’s work. Then she  _ reached _ , focusing her senses until they bloomed outwards and the world moved from colors to the black and white of Eagle Vision.

Desmond was as blue as always, the edges of his aura the golden glow of  _ importance _ . Ines hadn’t told Bill about the golden glow. Of  _ course  _ Desmond was important. Even beyond his heritage, he was her  _ son _ , and he would always be golden. And, like all the other times she had used her Eagle Vision to watch her son, there was no one else there. Desmond was the only one she could see.

_ Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted _ .

Still, she knew what she  _ observed _ . Ines wondered if Desmond would ever care to tell her about the people that he saw. Likely not, with how they trained him. It was a sad thought, but they gave him no reason to trust them with such a secret.

Ines would not tell, though. And she made sure to distract any others that would notice. That much she could do for her son. So much was taken from them already, in pursuit of their survival, and she would not let them take this.

0o0o0

“I was born a slave,” Aveline said, biting her lip. She clenched and unclenched her fists. She wasn’t certain if she wanted to punch something or not. She didn’t think violence would be her first reaction to anything, but she was starting to learn that she had a temper.

“But you are not,” Altair said. He stared hard at the auction, eyes flinty. He had such adverse reactions to slavery in general, and Aveline needed that utter sincerity right now. “Your father had the humility to recognize that he was wrong.”

“He did,” Aveline agreed, “I have power very few have. And they are my people.”

“You do, and they are,” Altair said. He turned from the auction to look at her. His gaze was hard, his expression angry, but it was directed at her. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Aveline admitted. Still, she stood straighter, and clenched her fists tightly. She felt her nails dig into her palms. “But I know what I  _ want _ to do.”

Altair nodded, viciously pleased, and smiled a dark grin. “We will help.”

0o0o0

Ratonhnhaké:ton walked through the forest on one of his patrol routes when he spotted a raven hopping on the ground. He stopped, and watched the raven  _ stare _ at him. It didn’t act scared, nor did it try to hop away from him either.

He nodded respectfully to it, and grabbed some trail mix from his bag. He kneeled and held out his hand to the raven.

“Here,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

The raven stared at him some more, and then hopped closer. It stopped a small distance away, eyeing the trail mix. Ratonhnhaké:ton set the mix on the ground, and leaned back. The raven studied the mix, and then ate it quickly when it recognized it as food.

Ratonhnhaké:ton nooded and prepared to stand when the raven croaked at him. It sounded vaguely like it told him to  _ wait _ , so he did. One did not ignore the commands of animals, especially ones like ravens.

He swore that the raven eyed him in approval as it finished eating. Ratonhnhaké:ton startled when the raven took off so close to him, flying to the area above the tree. The raven was graceful and flew in circles above him.

There was pressure in the back of his eyes, and then there was a  _ shift _ , and then Ratonhnhaké:ton stared down at himself. And the ground, and the tops of the trees. The view was somewhat distorted, and the colors were different than he was used to. But this was-

Ratonhnhaké:ton breathed heavily as his own sight returned to him. He leaned forward and pressed his hands into the earth. He dug his fingers into the dirt, and the solid sensation helped settle his nerves.

The raven croaked again, almost teasing. It landed on a low branch above his head. When Ratonhnhaké:ton managed to look up, he saw the raven studying him. It croaked again, and then bobbed its head, as if saying,  _ see what you can do _ ?

Ratonhnhaké:ton swallowed. This was no ordinary raven, then. “Thank you,” he managed. It wouldn’t do to be impolite to Raven, after all.

This time, the croak was one of approval. Then the raven took off again, and soared past Ratonhnhaké:ton to the treeline.

He didn’t follow the shape of it.

0o0o0

Petruccio stood to the side of the training clearing, and watched Ezio train. He used the training sword, which was more of a glorified rod than a sharp weapon. Petruccio bit his lip, and waited for Ezio to acknowledge him. He  _ knew _ that Ezio knew he was there. He wasn’t exactly trying to hide.

“Petruccio!” Ezio greeted after several minutes, grinning broadly at him. He placed the training sword to the side and walked forward to press a kiss to his forehead in greeting Petruccio leaned into the touch lightly. “Did you need something?”

Petruccio swallowed and gathered his courage. This was  _ Ezio _ . He would never, ever do anything to hurt him. “I see things, sometimes,” he said hesitantly.

Ezio tilted his head, and his eyes turned golden as he studied Petruccio. Petruccio wasn’t sure that Ezio knew he did that. “I see. What kind of things?”

“Invisible things,” Petruccio said. He looked up at Ezio, and then  _ looked  _ again. Ezio, as always, was a deep, beautiful blue, the edges a burnt gold. It was like looking at a sunset. And, beyond him, the echoes of the color in wisps of people that weren’t actually there. “Colors of people.”

Ezio grinned at him, and pulled Petruccio into a tight hug. Then he pulled away, but kept his hands on Petruccio’s shoulders. “Wonderful! I knew that I couldn’t be the only one in this family to develop the sight of eagles!”

“Sight of eagles?” Petruccio echoed, and blinked the colors away.

“Yes. There are a lot of terms for it, you know. We call it our second sight, or Eagle Vision, or just the sight of eagles…” Ezio trailed off. “How long have you had your second sight?”

“A year, maybe?” Petruccio asked, thinking about it. “It was off and on, and I’ve only been able to use it when I want to for a couple of weeks.”

“You gained it around the same age that I did,” Ezio said, and studied Petruccio again. “I wonder if that means anything? No, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure you have more questions. Come, let us go have a snack.”

“Okay,” Petruccio agreed, and grabbed his brother’s hand.

Ezio cheerfully led them to the kitchens, talking all the way. He didn’t talk about anything important, really, but it was enough that he talked to Petruccio. He was sickly, so sometimes everyone treated him like he was fragile. Not Ezio.

Petruccio  _ looked _ at his brother again, and saw more of the colorful wisps. Instead of the one or two that he had seen previously, there were seven. He knew that his brothers had seven other selves, but they had always been intangible before. No one but Ezio could see or hear or feel them. But with this second sight, he was aware that they  _ were _ there.

Definitely something to ask about.

0o0o0

“That was embarrassing,” Desmond said as he watched Cristina Vespucci walk away. “I feel mortified, and that’s just  _ me _ .”

“Is this what vindication feels like?” Ratonhnhaké:ton mused thoughtfully. “I think this is what vindication feels like. Altair?”

Altair hummed, exaggeratedly bringing his hand to his chin in thought. “I do believe it is.”

Ezio flushed and hissed, “Shut up!”

Desmond, Ratonhnhaké:ton, and Altair shared a glance. Then they turned to Ezio, and in unison, said, “No.”

0o0o0

Desmond blinked in surprise to find himself in the middle of a road, slightly damp dish towel in one hand. He had been doing dishes, so the change in location was sudden. He looked around and saw Aveline kneeling on the ground, and blood-

“Shit, hold on, you’ll be fine-” Desmond said quickly, bringing the towl to Aveline’s face. It was clean and it quickly soaked up the blood.

He glanced around and noted that they weren’t anywhere he could tend to the wound quickly. Still, Gerard was there, and tugging Aveline to safety. Nodding in approval, Desmond   _ pulled _ , bringing Aveline to him instead.

“I’m fine,” Aveline murmured, blinking up at him.

A bruise had already formed at her temple where her face hit the ground. Small scratches littered the right side of her face, from her temple to her cheek, to the cut that split her lips. Desmond kept the pressure on, even as he felt the echo of pain in his own lip.

“I don’t think this is  _ fine _ , Aveline,” Evie said, having been drawn in. She frowned, and not a second later, the others were all there as well.

“Do we need to do anything?” Altair demanded when he took in her appearance.

Despite her split lip, and the towel Desmond pressed to it, Aveline smirked at them. “No. I took care of it myself.”

“Good,” Ezio said darkly.

“Let’s take care of this right, yes?” Jun said, hands already full with medical supplies. Desmond kept Aveline’s face clean while Jun bandaged her up. “Though it is unusual that four of you now had the same injury.”

Desmond blinked and studied Aveline’s face. The scratches would heal cleanly since they were minor. But the shape of her cut lip, though… that was  _ familiar _ . “Ha. It looks like half of us  _ do _ get the scar.”

“Glad it wasn’t me, though,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said from where he stood.

Aveline huffed at them and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“Do you think that we’ll all get the scar eventually?” Evie asked.

They went silent for a moment as they thought about it.

Desmond snorted. “God, I hope not.”

“I’m going to have to explain why I’m not responding to Gerard,” Aveline sighed after Jun finished stitching her lip up. She leaned back into Altair’s chest, since he had been standing behind her.

“It’s your choice,” Ezio said, which everyone echoed. Gerard was Aveline’s closest friends. None of them would mind telling him about the eight of them.

Aveline hummed in agreement. “I’ll tell him.”

“Good luck with that,” Desmond said.

0o0o0

“What’s the matter, Jun?” Ezio asked. He frowned and looked up from the books he had been studying.

Jun stared at him, and bit her lip. Ezio set his book down and went to wrap Jun in a hug. She hugged him back tightly. Ezio just held her and waited for her to say what she wanted to say.

“We exist at the same time,” Jun said softly, face pressed into his shoulder.

Ezio blinked and pulled back. “What?”

Jun looked at him, eyes slightly damp. “We exist,  _ here _ , in the same time.”

“But- that’s- we  _ do _ ?” Ezio said, stuttering. Then he smiled broadly. “That’s wonderful!”

Jun shook her head. “No, not in the way we want.”

“Oh,” Ezio said. He thought about it, and then, “ _ Fuck _ .”

“I don’t know what to do,” Jun said, and pressed her face into his shoulder again.

Ezio thought about it. It was either backwards or forwards in time. Forwards was the most likely, as Jun wouldn’t have heard of Ezio as he was now. The Auditore Family was a minor noble house, and they were contained in Florence at the moment.

And if Jun  _ had _ heard of him in her own time, then they were known as Assassins. Which could only happen in the future, as the Auditore Family currently hid their purpose behind their legitimate businesses.

“Go, and find the  _ Ezio Auditore da Firenze _ that you heard about,” Ezio said, leaning back to look Jun in the eye. “Now that I know, I’ll be waiting for you, no matter how far in the future it is.”

“So you’ll be waiting for me in Italy,” Jun said. She sighed and asked, “We never did talk about which year we exactly were in, did we?”

“No, only Altair and Desmond did, and that was because they knew they were the most removed of us,” Ezio said.

It was one of those things that just didn’t come up, or simply  _ didn’t ask about _ . Or, if it did, they ignored it and discussed something else. It wasn’t  _ not _ important, but it was never as important as the bond they shared.

“I’m going to learn your future,” Jun sighed.

“We could have always asked Desmond our future,” Ezio pointed out. “Or Elise and Evie, since we know they are a head of us, even if we don’t know by how much.” Even Ratonhnhaké:ton, though he was isolated and didn’t bother trying to learn beyond what Achilles made him.

“Yes,” Jun agreed, “But asking those that share our hearts about  _ us _ is one thing. Meeting you in  _ person _ is another entirely.”

Ezio pressed his forehead against hers, and they breathed together for a long moment. “It’ll be fine, I promise. It’s me, and you, and  _ us _ . No matter how many years have passed, it’s  _ us _ .”

Jun closed her eyes, and pressed closer. “Yes.”

0o0o0

Desmond blinked when he found himself in a new location and looked around. He had just met Evie, and Aveline, who had both come to visit him on the Farm. This was the first time was going to visit someone else, and he was rather excited.

It looked like he was in a tower in a rather hot place. He walked to the edge of the tower, and grabbed the railing, and looked around. Ah, he was in a  _ desert _ , both similar and different to the one that he was familiar with. That explained it. He leaned out and breathed in deeply.

It was so much  _ higher _ than he had ever been. Even the tallest trees on the Farm weren’t as tall as this. It was really nice, actually. He wondered who he was coming to visit to be here.

“You’re another one,” a voice said behind him.

Desmond grinned and turned to look and- then he just  _ stopped _ . Because what? He saw his mirror do the same, staring at him. Wait, no, not  _ mirror _ , he was flipped. The mole on his cheek was on the wrong side. And the clothes were very different- they were loose white robes.

“Oh,” Desmond said, staring. “Um. I’m Desmond?”

His other self  _ looked _ at him and then snorted. “Do you not know your own name?”

“I do! Yes, I’m Desmond,” he said, scowling, “Who’re you?”

“I’m Altair,” he said, and walked up to the railing with him. “Why do you look like me?”

“You look like  _ me _ ,” Desmond said, frowning.

Desmond and Altair stared at each other for several long moments before Desmond broke. He couldn’t help it, this was too funny. He started laughing. Altair glared at him for a second before he laughed with him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Desmond said. And, because Evie and Aveline both did so, Desmond pulled him into a hug. Hugs were  _ nice _ , he was going to get as many as he could from the voices in his head.

Altair was still for a second before he hugged Desmond back. Yeah, nice.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Altair said.

0o0o0

Ezio hummed a song he didn’t remember hearing before, but was familiar all the same. Desmond joined in from where he was polishing his knives, their harmony echoing lightly in the kitchen. The acoustics might not be the best, but they never heard each other with their  _ ears _ .

“Did you get the song from me?” Desmond asked after a long moment.

Ezio shook his head. “No. I thought I was sharing with you.”

Desmond shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. It is a pretty song.”

With that, and turning back to their respective tasks, Ezio started humming the song again. It didn’t have words, he didn’t think, but the melody was nice. Maybe they got it from Jun?

0o0o0

“How are you always so kind?” Evie asked.

Aveline said her goodbyes to the child, and then turned to Evie. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always so  _ angry _ ,” Evie said, motioning broadly to the recently freed slaves. “I’m kind of spoiling for a fight myself, feeling it. But you never  _ do _ anything about it.”

Aveline laughed. “I do plenty, as an Assassin.”

“Yes, but you know what I  _ meant _ ,” Evie said.

Aveline started walking to the tent she had temporarily claimed as her own. Evie followed behind her. “You’re right, in that I’m always angry. Altair is too,” Aveline said. Evie nodded, because that was true. “But, I  _ refuse _ to act on my anger. Not to those that don’t deserve it.”

“You are kind,” Evie said. She frowned. “I admit, even with my own temper I find it hard. Jacob, too, struggles to control himself when he’s spoiling for a fight.”

“Kindness is a conscious act,” Aveline said, and smiled at Evie. “It does not require that I be docile and passive, or to forgive all the wrongs done to me, or to those that I see. I am angry. I am vicious. I stare at the world, and filled with utter spite,  _ refuse _ to act out in anger. The world can be horrible enough as it is.”

“You don’t  _ not _ act,” Evie said, thinking.

“Never,” Aveline said viciously. Evie nodded in agreement There was no such thing as neutrality in the face of oppression. “I am kind out of spite.”

“Oh,” Evie said in dawning comprehension. She had always viewed her work as an Assassin as a duty first and foremost. One that she was  _ good _ at, and one the loved, and one that she believed in. But a duty nonetheless. “The world expects you to be angry. Nearly forces you to. And so you spit at its feet and are not.”

Aveline grinned a predator’s grin at her. “Yes. It takes effort, of course. I have to gather my anger and make sure to use it to fuel my kindness. But yes.”

Evie nodded. “I like that. And Jacob will like it too.”

0o0o0

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now a question going forward: do i
> 
> a) make the time travel a sideways thing where they're interacting with each other in alternate dimensions, so that desmond can do what desmond does (which isn't happening here lol but the lead up to that)
> 
> b) just go VERY au and have this happening in the same timeline and everything is wildly au because of that and how it both changes and leads up to desmond doing what desmond does (which again isn't happening)
> 
> bc i've got super lots of ideas for both in my head and i'm being wibbly wobbly on which way i wanna go, and it has to do with ezio&jun and aveline&Ratonhnhaké:ton meeting and whether or not it'll be completely heartwarming of two selves meeting or confusion and heartbreak as either one goes: the fuck you mean you don't know who i am
> 
> also plot. it will change how the plot goes bc that's also a thing in my head right now. for a thing i'm not taking all that seriously it sure has a lot going for it lol


	5. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which the average age is getting older, as we get closer to desmond doing... stuff
> 
> more hc about eagle vision! isra is kind of a stand in for a lot of stuff, but she's also a teacher of... stuff that might come in handy, might not
> 
> also mentions of them meeting future selves! i flipped a coin and it's gonna be fluffy. not written yet though lol
> 
> also... backstory and plot and other stuff are kicking in. wonder what's gonna happen? no srsly, as writer, i have ideas, but it's not like i'm planning further than what i'm writing at the moment

“You too were born into this Order,” Al Mualim said. He watched Altair intently as he spoke. “Do you regret it?”

Altair turned fully to him at the question. He felt his other selves all arriving as well, drawn by it. All eight of them were grown now, and had experienced much heartache and growth in the past decade or so. They all had their own thoughts about the actions they had taken in the past, both individually and as a group.

Altair ignored everything that happened that day. Everything that he and his other selves had just done, to protect his home.

Instead, he  _ thought _ about the question. This wasn’t  _ just _ a test, he felt. Al Mualim was asking a question that he himself likely wondered about, and perhaps often. With age came experience and wisdom, and Al Mualim was one of the eldest in Masyaf. What Altair and his other selves had learned, even though their years were a fraction of the ones Al Mualim had, was that one never stopped learning. Never stopped questioning.

He couldn’t even say what Altair, himself, would say.  _ The only life I’ve ever known _ was a blatant lie in this scenario. Not with seven other selves existing alongside his own. Yes, that would be what he said to anyone else. But this was Al Mualim, who deserved honesty. Especially if he bothered to ask Altair at all.

“In what way do you mean?” Altair asked, “Asking about the Order itself is too broad for a simple ‘yes or no’ question. If you are asking if I regret being born into the Assassins and raised as one, then no, I do not regret it. I  _ cannot _ regret it. If you are asking if there are things  _ about _ being born and raised in the Order that I regret, then yes, there are.”

It was a statement that all of them agreed with. They had their pride, and their ideals, yes. But they weren’t isolated into one way of thinking, and could  _ see _ what other peoples and other cultures thought about things. They could all reference each other, both the good and the bad, and see where things could be  _ changed _ .

If Altair was by himself, if he didn’t have his other selves… his answer would be different. He wouldn’t have the life experience that he did. Not just what Altair lived,  _ himself _ , but seven other lives, connected. All of their pain, their sorrow, their joys, and triumphs. Their collective lives were intermingled between them all, much like a tapestry. What one learned, so did they all. It was why they were as strong as they were.

These thoughts, Altair kept to himself. There were few in Masyaf that knew of Altair’s other selves, and Al Mualim was not one of them.

Al Mualim looked at Altair for a long moment, clearly thinking on the response Altair gave. Was it one that he expected? Altair was known for his silence, so who knows what Al Mualim was thinking.

Eventually, Al Mualim smiled lightly. “Yes, it is an expansive question. Now, let us continue. The battle here is not yet finished.”

Altair nodded in agreement. He could hear Assassins fighting down below, both Brothers and Sisters. Still the question echoed in his mind. Not the question itself, which was a constant one in their minds. No, it was that Al Mualim who had asked.

0o0o0

“Jun!” Ratonhnhaké:ton nearly shouted, skidding into the room as if he had been running.

Jun looked up from the book Desmond had lent her, completely startled. It was rare that they performed actions when visiting each other, preferring the subtlety that Assassins favored, and appearing as if mist.

For Ratonhnhaké:ton to be  _ running _ -

“What’s the emergency?” Jun asked, looked to her book, and  _ shifted _ , so that her body would remain in place while her spirit went elsewhere.

“Ezio,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said grimly, stopping in front of her. He took Jun’s hand in her own, and pulled them both to- a stage?

“Jun,” Ezio looked at her, sheer relief on his face. His presence practically  _ blasted _ Jun with it, and she nearly took a step backwards.

“What’s wrong?” Jun asked.

Ratonhnhaké:ton released her hand so Jun took Ezio’s in her own, sharing their breathing into something meditative. Ezio was keeping calm through sheer force of will, but his breath was still near panicked.

“Do you remember the mission Federico, Claudia, and I were planning?” Ezio asked.

“Yes,” Jun said, thinking.

They were to Assassinate someone, and to do so, the Auditore siblings were to infiltrate as entertainers. Claudia and Ezio were to be playing instruments, and Federico had a fair enough singing voice to be allowed on stage.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Jun breathed, borrowing a word from Desmond as she realized  _ exactly _ what was going on.

“Yes,” Ezio agreed, smiling. It looked pained.

Because Ezio was a  _ terrible _ singer. It wasn’t that he had a bad voice- he was very good at accents, and mimicking tones, and hearing him read stories was  _ always _ a treat. He often read them to sleep when they needed it. His voice was actually quite lovely, really. It was that he couldn’t sing to save his  _ life _ .

Ratonhnhaké:ton looked to Jun. “We can’t change it now, the people in charge are quite set into their idea that it was Ezio who was supposed to sing. But you’re  _ trained _ at this, so I thought that you could help.”

Jun took a deep breath. “How long do we have?”

“I’m up in the next few minutes,” Ezio said, “They only gave me enough time to warm up.”

“Warming up, right,” Jun said. “Okay. I can do this.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Ezio said.

Jun and Ezio shifted, so that she was in charge of his body. She had to be careful, here. Jun had sung as Ezio, before. She had sung as everyone. She and her other selves heard her sing as herself, but Claudia had explained that they heard  _ Ezio _ the last time she had done so. Jun as Ezio was much better, but it was by no means  _ good _ . Decent, at best.

Jun went through warmups, singing up and down the keys. She had to separate herself enough so that she could  _ hear _ Ezio, while still being in charge of the action. It was difficult, to be sure, but required more concentration than actual focus. Jun could do this. She  _ could _ .

All too soon, Jun was led onto stage, Ezio next to her. He gripped her hand tightly in hers, and it was an oddly squished sensation, but by no means  _ uncomfortable _ . This was new. They had always switched completely, or just shared the skill itself. Splitting control like this was… well, they could think on it more later.

Jun could see Federico and Claudia in the audience, doing their part, and playing instruments. Their expressions were set into what was expected of them as entertainers but even here Jun could see that both of them looked a little wild-eyed as Ezio was led on stage.

She smiled assuredly at them, and Ezio grinned charmingly at the audience. Well. It was now or never. Ezio gave her a song appropriate for the venue, and Jun opened her mouth to sing.

Ten minutes later, Jun was led off the stage, near breathless with adrenaline and exhaustion.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, staring off into the distance.

“Ezio, you’re here on a job,” Elise said after a moment, appearing. Ah, yes, she had been there in the back of their minds, attentive but not physically present. Shoring their mental fortitude for the task they were given.

“A job, yes,” Ezio agreed, blinking. He shook his head. Elise nodded at Jun, and led Ezio to where he needed to go.

Jun blinked after him, shared a glance with Ratonhnhaké:ton, and then turned on her heel. She didn’t return home to the book she had left behind, but to a different library. There were more scrolls than books, and everything was stone. Ah. Masyaf.

“Jun?” Altair asked when she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his shoulder.

“I think,” Jun said tiredly, “that if I were not considered a Master before, that I have just earned my Mastery. A few times over.”

0o0o0

Federico watched as Ezio went through stances, slowly, his movements smooth. Ezio’s gaze was focused and distant at the same time. If Federico  _ looked _ , squinted his eyes, and shifted his thought process sideways he could almost  _ see _ the seven other people there. This was one of those group things that Ezio and the other selves did.

“Federico?” Ezio asked after several minutes. He blinked in surprise when he noticed Federico standing there. “How long have you been there?”

“Not for very long,” Federico shrugged, “What were you doing?”

“A form,” Ezio said, frowning. A thinking frown. Ezio’s voices were so spread out through the world that oftentimes they had to think around societal context to explain something. “Fighting style. Like swordwork, but for the body. This one was based on a dance.”

“Jun?” Federico asked.

“Jun,” Ezio confirmed, smiling slightly. “Did you need something?”

Federico hummed. “Not really, but I did have a question for you. All of you.”

“Yes?”

“What are you best at, in terms of fighting?” Federico asked, “The fastest, strongest, smartest, things like that.”

Ezio blinked at him, startled at the sudden question. He looked off to the side, no doubt looking and speaking with his other selves. For several long moments, Ezio was silent as he and his other selves deliberated. Ezio could speak to them out loud, or he could speak to them secretly. Federico noticed that they were often silent when they were thinking about something between the eight of them.

“Well,” Ezio drew the sound out, “Elise, of course, is our best swordsman.”

“Oh,  _ that _ I know,” Federico agreed. Ezio often entered swordsman competitions for Elise, and had won them some nice bets. Ezio wasn’t bad, of course. Elise was just  _ better _ .

Ezio ndded, pleased. Ah, Elise, then. “Ezio is the  _ fastest _ ,” she said. “Not as agile as Jun, maybe, but it doesn’t matter when it’s hard to hit him in the first place.”

Federico nodded in agreement. Yes, his brother absolutely was fast. La Volpe rather adored Ezio and his swift feet, often using him as bait or competition for his thieves. For all Ezio learned under the Master Thief, he then in turned trained the others.

“Aveline fights the smartest,” Ezio said, accent returning to his own. “Jun is the deadliest.”

“Jun?” Federico repeated. He thought it might be Altair, or even Evie. Those two had been born into the Order, and the way they fought made that evident. “I wouldn’t think so.”

Ezio grinned at him, dark and easy. “Yes, exactly.”

Federico paused, and then laughed lightly. Yes, that would rather be the point, wouldn’t it?. “I stand corrected.”

Ezio nodded, point made before continuing. “Ratonhnhaké:ton is the strongest.  _ And _ the best climber.”

“Two bests?” Federico asked amusedly. Ezio nodded, determinedly, and grinned off to the side in good hearted teasing. That made sense. Federico hadn’t talked to Ratonhnhaké:ton all that often, but he seemed near incapable of taking a compliment.

“Hmm,” Ezio hummed in thought, “Altair is the most dangerous. Evie is the most brutal.”

That lined up with what Federico noticed, though he wasn’t able to observe a lot. The others often left Ezio to his own fights so that he could learn, but that didn’t mean they didn’t step in when needed. Evie, especially, was noticeable in comparison. She learned to fight  _ hard _ . There was no honor in how Assassins fought, and Evie lacked even less.

“And Desmond?” Federico asked.

“Desmond is…” Ezio trailed off, thinking. He looked to where the others supposedly were, and there was once again a long pause as they thought. “Desmond is Desmond,” he said eventually.

“What does that mean?” Federico asked.

He rather liked Desmond. It was near impossible to  _ dislike _ him on his own because he was so deliberately non-reactive towards anything. He also had the odd ability to be adopted by pretty much anyone that came across him.

Evie had done it, and Federico had also claimed Desmond as another younger brother. The other voices in Ezio’s head were  _ family _ because they were so connected to his brother, but Federico didn’t consider them siblings like he did Desmond.

What did it mean, then, that a group of eight as versed in combat as they, despite their relatively young ages, couldn’t assign Desmond something he was best at? They were able to do so for the other seven, and in one case, even two. Desmond was a fully capable fighter, because he too was born into the Order. And it couldn’t be because he wasn’t the best at  _ something _ .

Ezio shrugged. “Desmond is Desmond,” he repeated.

0o0o0

“What do you think it is that we do here?” Isra asked Altair.

It had been nearly a month since Altair and Jun had first walked into the garden. This was their first proper lesson. And they  _ were _ lessons, that much Isra had told him. Not just about their second sight, but about what they, the women of the gardens, did.

Altair frowned, and thought it over. “I do know you are healers, of the mind and spirit, instead of the body like the physicians. Though you are also trained as physicians, you aren’t called on those skills nearly as often.”

“And?”

“I don’t know,” Altair shook his head. “Aveline thinks it is disguises and information. Elise thinks it has to do with something like politics. Desmond thinks you’re terrifying in a way that Assassins generally aren’t.”

Though this was the first of their lessons, Isra had Altair come in a week after their first meeting for introductions. It was brief because they were all busy with work and training, but it happened. So Isra knew of them all. The other women knew of Jun, of course, and had an idea of the rest, but Isra knew there were eight of them.

It was kind of terrifying, but relieving. Only Jacob had known about all of them previously.

Isra smiled amusedly. “Yes, to all of that. Though I’m not certain about the last point.”

Altair eyed Isra, as Desmond nodded emphatically next to him. He could understand why Desmond thought that. “No, I think it is. Even if I don’t know  _ why _ .”

“Either way, you’ll learn what it is we do here,” Isra said.

She did-  _ something _ , a micro movement that Altair just barely registered, before another woman walked towards them, carrying a long piece of cloth.

“What is that for?” Altair asked curiously. It looked like silk.

“I first recognized you for your golden color,” Isra said, and deftly started folding the silk. “So I assume, beyond everything else that we are going to teach you, is that we are going to teach you how to strengthen your second sight.”

Altair blinked as Isra handed him the silk. It was soft and richly colored, and he could feel his callouses catching on it. He held it up and- “A blindfold?”

“Yes,” Isra said, and inclined her head. “Our second sight most often manifests as something our vision translates. But it is not  _ sight _ .”

“Like our stories,” Ratonhnhaké:ton murmured in realization. Yes, Ratonhnhaké:ton did mention that his people knew of those with the second sight that were blind. And it did explain why their second sight manifested differently for them all.

Altair held the blindfold in his hands. “So this will help train it?”

Isra nodded. “It is an ability that manifests within, and must be trained as all abilities. You can only expand your awareness through experience, growth, and  _ time _ . I can only do so much for you, but I can at least guide you so that you do not learn through trial and error.”

“I understand,” Altair said. Already his other selves were reaching for blindfolds of their own. Or making plans to.

“I believe you do,” Isra said, smiling. “Now, put it on. We will also begin another of your lessons while you are here.”

“Which is?” Altair asked, and tied the silk around his eyes. It was smooth and comfortable, and way more expensive than anything he held before. Despite its smoothness, it didn’t slip down the bridge of his nose.

“You have not noticed my girls in this courtyard while you’ve been here, have you?” Isra asked.

Altair  _ stilled _ as he registered the words. No, no he hadn’t. He had  _ known _ they were there, when he had first walked in. His second sight registered them, noting their neutral-blue shades, even as they remained unobtrusive. But when he sat down with Isra and started talking-

“Ah,” Isra said, voice alight with amusement. “There, your first lesson. Now we will begin the next.”

Desmond was right. These women were terrifying.

0o0o0

“You need a hidden blade,” Desmond said, sitting on Elise’s bed.

She was currently dressing up for a mission, for all that she was constrained at  _ school _ . Honestly, how did they expect her to become Grandmaster if they isolated her this much? Networking was one thing, not meeting her own future people was another.

“Or we need swords,” Desmond added.

Elise scowled at him. He was well aware how she felt regarding their separate Orders. But she paused, and frowned in thought. “That is- can you explain what you’re thinking? I think I can see where you’re going with this, but it’s muddy.”

Desmond sat up and waved his arms around in a  _ so-so _ motion, and shrugged. “We fight well on our own. We fight better, together. But we all do not fight the  _ same _ .”

“No, we do not,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, appearing. Not a second after, so did the others, the feeling of a  _ conversation _ drawing them in.

“There are similarities, of course,” Evie said, crossing her legs, visibly thinking it over. “But as well as we train to keep ourselves able to fight no matter the situation, we  _ are _ specialized.”

Altair hummed in thought, making comparisons between them all, and sharing those quick thoughts with the others. “What we need is a  _ general _ set that each of us can carry with us, that all of us can use. Sharing skills will help with the uniquely trained abilities, but that will only bring us so far.”

“It’s why I’m training with Rauf,” Elise agreed.

“So, a hidden blade,” Desmond said, motioning to Elise. “You’re the only one that doesn’t carry one. And Jun will need one, since hers is in her shoe.”

“It’s so  _ unwieldy _ ,” Jun sighed. Still, she nodded in assent.

“Think we can find Altair’s Codex?” Aveline asked Ratonhnhaké:ton and Elise. “There are stories about the knowledge it contains.”

Altair made a face at the mention of something he hadn’t done yet, but ignored it. They ignored things a lot. They had no idea how Altair would gain the knowledge of items whose legend lasted centuries. Desmond would probably help since he had access to unparalleled amount of information. It was something to look forward to in the future.

“What does it say?” Altair asked.

“It mentions armor, new hidden blades, and other weapons,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. “Achilles did mention it during history lessons.” Which only Desmond and Evie had attended, since they were distant enough in time to not forget everything that was mentioned the moment they left.

“But what exactly was in it was  _ lost _ ,” Desmond said, “Or hidden. Since Ezio is supposed to get pieces of the Codex in the future, I assume the latter.”

Ezio too made a face, but said, “Hidden, most likely. Especially since Jun met my future self, and made reference to things we’ve yet to do.”

“So, where would you hide it?” Elise asked, poking Ezio in the shoulder. “Would it be something we know, now, or would it be a place we learn of later?”

“You’d be the best bet, honestly,” Desmond pointed out, “Templars have always been interested in Assassin history.”

“There’s also the fact that we would have to  _ make _ it,” Evie said, frowning as she thought it over. “Altair, you are training in blacksmithing, but you aren’t a master of it yet. Not like you will be given enough time, and likely enough for you to  _ start _ the Codex in the first place. And that’s not even getting into armor, which we all know would  _ not _ be made of metal. Not for Assassins.”

Altair nodded in agreement. “Then we must make looking for the Codex a plan of ours, and look for alternatives in the meantime.”

Desmond hummed in thought. “I imagine that the Paris Assassins would be a good start for something we’ve not seen before. Records have it that they had very strong poisons and a hidden blade that worked at a distance.”

“Something for me to ask Arno about, then,” Elise said.

0o0o0

Ratonhnhaké:ton climbed to his tree. It was tall, and very close to the valley wall. He wasn’t allowed past it, so he didn’t, but he went as far as he could. This tree was where he came to think, or when he wanted the height it gave him. It’s where he met Jun.

Above him, there was a rather large eagle nest, placed in the rocks. He could climb to reach it but he didn’t. No, that was the eagle’s territory, and he didn’t feel like being attacked.

But he remembered the raven that shared its sight with him. It was deliberate, he felt. Ravens were intelligent creatures, enough to enjoy playing games, either by themselves or on other creatures. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn’t know what prompted Raven to show him the new ability of his second sight, but there had to be a reason. Food was important, but one interaction was not much.

So, he came here. Where the eagle was, where Ratonhnhaké:ton felt at peace. Where he often felt the most connected to his other selves, who yearned for the wind in their hair like he did.

Altair was being trained by Isra, and the women in the garden. Isra said that experience was how their second sight developed, like everything else that they trained for. If Ratonhnhaké:ton gained a new ability, even with Raven’s help, then it was something he likely would have learned on his own.

Ratonhnhaké:ton closed his eyes, and breathed. He didn’t  _ focus _ the way he had previously to use his second sight. He just… breathed, and took in the world around him. Listened. Felt the wind, the bark under his hands, the leaves brushing his hair. Tasted the air and the promise of rain upon it. It was like the stillness he practiced to hunt, but without the anticipation.

When he felt comfortable with what he sensed, he  _ focused _ , and opened his eyes. And heard the screech of an eagle, in his mind. It was a soft sound, distant and weak, a newly hatched chick. But it was there.

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled. Oh, he had  _ much _ to tell his other selves.

0o0o0

_ -i did not fight for people to bow to me stand up keep moving we need info- _

Desmond blinked himself awake slowly, and rubbed at his eyes. What? Where did that come from? He tried to think about it, but the words themselves slipped away. He sat up in bed, and noticed that the book he was reading fall off of his bed and to the ground.

He made a face. Oh. He fell asleep reading. No wonder he had odd quotes in his head. Strange, though, he normally remembered his dreams better than this. A quick glance at the clock and- well, it was still early. He didn’t have to get up  _ yet _ .

So, with little fanfare, Desmond fell backwards onto his pillow and closed his eyes. Maybe he could reach that dream again. It felt interesting…

0o0o0

“This is going to be  _ terrible _ ,” Ezio moaned.

Altair made a face at him. “Yes. It’s why I told you to  _ leave _ , earlier.”

“Nope,” Aveline said, “We’re not. We’re sharing your pain and that’s final.”

“You don’t have to,” Altair sighed, though he knew it was a losing battle.

“We really do,” Desmond said, nudging him in the shoulder. “You’re getting your finger cut off, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Altair said dryly. “I’m rather excited, all things told.”

“Going to be  _ terrible _ ,” Ezio repeated.

“Ezio, shut up,” Aveline said, poking him in the side. “We know, okay?”

“It is a big moment,” Jun said. “You’re getting your hidden blade. You will be considered an Assassin.”

“ _ Thank _ you,” Altair said.

“Oh, like we’re not all excited for you,” Elise said, rolling her eyes. “We’ll even properly celebrate later.”

“Oh, hey,” Desmond said, nudging Altair, and grinning. Altair eyed him warily. “Now we’re going to be  _ different _ .”

“Other than your heights?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked dryly.

“Well, yes,” Desmond agreed. Altair was a good three inches shorter than he was. And Desmond was still growing.

“You know that you just jinxed yourself, right?” Evie asked. “The probability of you losing your finger now just increased.”

Desmond made an exaggerated face of horror. “Oh God, please no.”

Altair stifled a laugh. Honestly, what would he do without these people? He was truly glad that they were here.

0o0o0

 


	6. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder what adha did?
> 
> also this chapter turned out to be really altair and outsider!POV heavy... oh well, lol
> 
> the sense8 episode where lito shares sun's period pain was wonderful and there's no way i wouldn't add something similar here
> 
> also when i said this was wildly au and self-indulgent, i really, really meant it. we're going buck wild here guys and there's probably gonna be plot holes everywhere as i just write down everything of this universe as i want. i'm gonna do my best to keep internal consistency a thing because that's what i like, but still

“You’re the Chalice?” Altair asked, utterly perplexed.

Adha smiled at him, but rolled her eyes as well. “What, you weren’t expecting an actual, physical chalice, were you?”

“Yes, I was,” Altair said, thinking of the Pieces of Eden. “Understandably so, too.”

“I suppose,” Adha said, and stretched her arms above her head, knife still in hand. Altair heard her spine pop. “Oh, that feels better.”

_ ‘She speaks oddly.’ _ Desmond murmured, a voice in the back of his mind. He was busy at his job, but like the others, kept a mental eye on him.

Altair frowned.

Yes, Adha  _ did _ speak oddly. She was not the formal young woman he had met prior, during his apprenticeship in Jerusalem. It was still recognizably  _ her _ ; neither his eyes or his second sight would lie to him. But she was different, much more than the scant two years they hadn’t seen each other would account for.

“We need to get you safe,” Altair said instead.

Because Adha was his friend. Was  _ their _ friend. She did not know the whole of it, but Adha was one of the few that knew of his other selves. And Altair might even care for her more deeply, given the chance. There was a start there, at least.

“And would that be with the Assassins?” Adha asked mildly.

And with that, Altair felt his other selves’ focus sharpen.  Adha was leading up to something, and that something made Altair’s mental eagle flex its talons.  _ Pay attention _ , it whispered. Ha. As if Altair already wasn’t.

“It would be better than the Templars,” Altair said, as expected of him.

Adha  _ looked _ at him. “Better is not good,” she said.

“Then what would you have me do?” Altair asked.

There was a pause, as Adha studied him. It was not like Altair was used to being looked at, when sent on missions or asked for help. She idly twirled her knife in her hands, thinking. Altair waited to hear what she would say.

“What do you think the Chalice is?” Adha asked eventually. “What  _ I _ am?”

“Other than the literal definition?” Altair asked dryly. Still, he thought.  _ Libation _ , she said before. “A vessel for an offering to a higher power. In this case, with the rumors that are spread about the power you wield, it’s not just based on faith.” Altair took a breath and asked, “Would you be the chalice itself, what the chalice holds, or the higher power the offering is given to?”

Adha looked intrigued and then delighted. She let out peals of laughter, and a couple of minutes later, calmed down enough to speak. “Oh, you are a  _ marvel _ , Altair.”

“I try,” Altair said flatly, though he was happy Adha had found enough joy to laugh. Even if it was apparently at him.

Still looking amused, Adha said, “You are not correct, but you are not  _ incorrect _ , either.”

“That’s helpful.”

“Patience, Altair!” Adha said cheerfully. “Another question. What are the rumors that they say I can do?”

Altair clicked his tongue. “You have the power to unite the warring factions. Most would say you have the power to stop the Crusades. The Templars likely think you can give them victory in our centuries long conflict.” Nevermind that most Assassins didn’t recognize it as a  _ centuries _ long conflict. The name changed, but the Order remained the same, much like the Assassins.

“In a way,” Adha said softly, turning serious. “Though likely not in the way they think I can.”

“Adha?” Altair asked.

Adha stood straight, and put her knife in her belt, where it was hidden from view. “You are part of a  _ millennia _ long plan by Those Who Came Before.”

What?

Altair felt all trains of thought derailed. Distantly, he could feel all of their actions pausing as they registered what Adha said.

... _ What _ ?

“I am the Chalice, a vessel of libation, whether for good or ill. My power is indeed that to unite factions, but not in the manner one most assumes,” Adha continued, ignoring Altair’s sudden stillness. “That much is true, and that much information has remained circulating. You could say that I am a living Piece of Eden.”

“What?” Altair managed, voice choked.

Adha looked at him, and smiled softly. “Altair. You are my friend. I love you, and given time, I could even fall in love with you. But I am meant to die here, and you are meant to do great things. You and your other selves, all the way to when the world ends.”

“Adha?” Altair said, startled at the sudden statement. He chose to ignore her confession, or her admittance of  _ potential feelings _ , because that made his chest hurt. Right now, Altair could only focus on one thing. “The end of the world?”

Desmond stirred then.  _ “Predictions of the end of the world are everywhere. 1862. 1910. 1974. 1999. Y2K. 2012. And that’s just the top of my head. I can look for more later.” _

“No,” Altair said firmly. His other selves all appeared next to him and lent their own determination to the statement. They could think of the end of the world predictions later, or the revelations that Adha had just dumped on  _ all _ of their heads. Right now they focused on the fact that Adha said she would die. “You will die, like all humans. But it need not be  _ here _ .”

“Time is in flux, and has been. I didn’t realize why until recently,” Adha said. She leaned forward and grabbed Altair’s hand. “The Calculations work to the future that is needed, but they need not be exact. Not entirely. A fraction here, a fraction there. Each leads to rolling changes the further back it started, but things are middling enough that the needed future remains stable.”

“Adha,” Altair started.

“No,” Adha said firmly, “My future is my own. I will die here, but it will be to alter the Calculations into a more favorable outcome. I was but a tool in the end, but this way I will use  _ myself _ as I see fit. You are a piece of a puzzle, Altair. You and your other selves are pieces of a puzzle, and together you make a whole that is unique, and different than what any expected.”

“Adha-” Altair tried again, but Adha shook her head.

Adha looked at them individually. It startled them all even more than what Adha had been saying. “I cannot see you. But I can tell that you are there. You will not remember, I cannot let you, not without altering things beyond what is safe. But I  _ see _ you. And you are together, and that is why I am doing this. Acting out beyond my intended purpose.”

“Self-determination,” Altair said softly, almost automatically. What Assassins attempted to teach, to lead, beyond everything else. In this way, Adha learned from her stay in Jerusalem just as Altair did.

“Yes,” Adha smiled. “I am sorry, Altair. I truly would have loved to spend the rest of our lives together. And I am so incredibly glad to have met you. If things go as I wish, then you will remember this conversation. And you must know that this was not your fault. None of what is happening here, with me, is your fault.”

“Adha-” Altair tried.

“It’s okay,” Adha said.

No, it really wasn’t.

0o0o0

“Arno,” Elise called.

“Elise,” Arno said, smiling in greeting. It was easy to press a kiss to her cheek. “How are you?” He hadn’t seen her in nearly two years, since she was off at school learning things. They had been sending letters back and forth, but that was by no means as nice as seeing each other in person.

“I’m doing fine,” Elise said, and grabbed his hand. “We do need to catch up, later. But there is something that I need to talk to you about.”

“Is everything alright?” Arno asked. “Is it you, or your other selves?” She was by herself, currently, the others all off dealing with their own lives. He couldn’t feel extra presences at the moment.

Elise blinked at him before laughing softly. “I forgot that your senses go beyond anyone else I know here.”

“In this lifetime, you mean?” Arno teased.

Elise had been the one to help him broaden this sense, after all, with the help of her other selves. She herself didn’t have the second sight, Eagle Vision, but the seven others did. Arno wondered why she, out of eight, didn’t, but assumed it to be because Elise provided contrast. It would be easy to fall into ruts of misunderstanding if they all saw the world the same way.

“Yes,” Elise agreed. She walked, hand still holding his, and led him to her rooms. “You are more aware of my other selves, when they are here, than anyone else we all collectively know. It’s a talent, truly.”

“I thought Petruccio could tell?” Arno asked, thinking back.

“You remember what I say about the others?” Elise asked, blinking.

“Of course.”

“You truly are something else, Arno Dorian,” Elise said, an echo of someone else in her smile. Ezio, since he just mentioned Petruccio. He also happened to be the one hardest to differentiate from Elise. “And that is why we need to talk. I imagine what I am going to tell you, you would learn sooner or later. But we’ve been talking, together, and this is important.”

“What is it?” Arno said. Elise smiled, but said nothing further until they were in her rooms. He eyed the bed, but refrained from making comments of that manner at the moment. “Elise?”

Elise took a deep breath, and turned to face him. She held her arms loosely at her side, and she placed her hand on her sword hilt. Arno frowned; that was one of her comforting motions if she felt either anxious or scared.

He focused and- yes, there, he could see the slight shades of Elise’s seven other selves. Oh.  _ All _ seven. This  _ was _ something rather large, then.

“Do you know what your father did for a living?” Elise asked.

“He was a nobleman, with a passion for history,” Arno replied easily. “We often used to travel when I was younger.”

“Is that all?” Elise asked.

Arno stared at her. “Yes,” he said slowly, thinking it over. Unconsciously, his hand drifted to his father’s pocket watch. It had that curious engraving on the top that Arno hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.

Elise looked evenly at him. Her head tilted slightly as she listened to her other selves, who must be discussing something. “Would you like to know what he was?”

“I think you’d tell me regardless,” Arno said lightly, thoughts racing. Oh, but he was  _ anxious _ now, and he tried to remain calm.

“I would,” Elise said, and crossed her arms. A physical motion that she and her other selves used when they tried to appear  _ non-threatening _ , comparatively to all other body language Arno had observed before. “Father wouldn’t want me telling you this, at least not without a promise from you regarding allegiances. But uninformed decisions can ruin the world, and ruin people, and I  _ refuse _ that for you.”

Arno stared at her. “What?”

Elise sighed, and once again let her arms hang by her side. “It’s a long and complicated story. And it is a difficult one. But it must be said.”

“Elise?”

“Sit down, Arno,” Elise said, and went to do just that.

Arno followed her, and sat across from her, watching her intently. He could read her like no one else, but there was something in her expression that made him nervous. More anxious than just the mention of his father would.

“Tell me, Elise,” he said. He wouldn’t like this, he could tell. But he trusted Elise.

“What do you know,” Elise said slowly, “about  _ assassins _ ?”

0o0o0

“Connor, huh,” Desmond said, looking  Ratonhnhaké:ton over. “It’s not a bad name. It’s Irish, I think? Something to do with wolves.”

“Desmond is an Irish name too, if I’m remembering right,” Evie added, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “So it’s not like you’re in bad company.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton made a face, but nodded. “I understand the  _ need _ , but it’s still gives me a bad taste in my mouth.”

“I understand,” Aveline said, smiling sympathetically as she ran her hands over the her careful aristocratic hairstyle. “But Connor is a good name, on its own.”

“Definitely easier to yell,” Elise teased, “Less syllables overall.”

“So Connor is for yelling and Ratonhnhaké:ton is for everything else?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked dryly.

“Sounds about right,” Desmond agreed. “Wonder why he chose it for you, though?”

“It’s a painful name,” Altair said from where he kept an eye on the Old Man, to make certain he was not overhearing Ratonhnhaké:ton speak to them. Ha. Another Old Man on the Mountain, though the Davenport Homestead was not much of a mountain compared to Masyaf. Old Man on the Hill, maybe?

“Painful?” Ratonhnhaké:ton echoed.

He frowned, thinking about how Achilles acted when deciding on a name. The old man had complete control of his body, for all that he limped around. Like all Master Assassins, Achilles had a firm control over his expressions. But Ratonhnhaké:ton was used to Altair, who spoke most often with his eyes.

And yes, Achilles eyes were bright with remembered pain when he chose  _ Connor _ .

“Why would he choose it, then, if it causes him pain?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

“Likely as a way to get over it,” Aveline offered. “If he associates the name with you, who he will train independently, then he will stop associating it as much with whoever causes him pain when he thinks of the name now.”

“I hope so,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. He didn’t think he’d like being looked at with pain for very long.

“He will,” Altair said assuredly. “The eagle in his head wouldn’t let him otherwise.”

“Achilles has Eagle Vision?” Desmond asked. He followed Altair’s gaze, eyes glowing golden. After a pause, he nodded. “He  _ does _ .”

“Then he can also train you with it,” Ezio said brightly. “He’s a Mentor. Wonder what he can do differently than the others?”

“Well, I’ll find out,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said firmly. “We came here for more information about Those Who Came Before. But I will also become an Assassin.”

“You’ll do good,” Desmond said, a statement that was echoed by the others.

“Yes,” Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed. He wouldn’t do anything else.

0o0o0

Kadar watched Altair curiously as he sat in front of a low table, eyes closed, legs crossed, and hands placed near limply in his lap. Malik was gone for the moment, doing some errand or other, and had left Kadar in Altair’s care for the moment.

“Altair?” Kadar asked quietly. He wasn’t sure what Altair was doing, but he didn’t want to interrupt if it was something important.

“Yes?” Altair said, opening his eyes to look at Kadar, eyes  _ bright _ in the way that meant he was using his second sight. Despite the usual sharpness that using the second sight made people feel, his gaze was warm. Or, not scary, at least, as Kadar had heard other people describe.

“Um-” Kadar bit his lip, not sure what to say. Altair just watched him, content in waiting. Where did he get this patience? He didn’t used to be so  _ quiet _ before. “What are you doing?”

“Meditating,” Altair said after a moment. He blinked, and his eyes dimmed as he stopped using his second sight.

“What’s that?” Kadar asked curiously.

He moved closer, now that he realized he could. It wasn’t  _ safer _ , Altair and Malik were always safe, but now he wouldn’t be a bother at least. See, Malik! Kadar  _ could _ pay attention and learn from his lectures!

“It’s an exercise that promotes mental stillness,” Altair explained after a moment, visibly thinking it over. “It helps me keep calm,” he added amusedly when Kadar made a face at the explanation.

“Oh,” Kadar said. “Is that why you’re so quiet now?”

Altair looked at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You used to talk a lot with Malik and Abbas,” Kadar said. He rolled his eyes and clarified, “Or, at least argued with them. But then you stopped talking so much.”

“I see,” Altair said, frowning. “No, I haven’t been talking to people as much, have I?”

“I just said that!” Kadar said.

“So you did,” Altair said. He sighed, and then smiled at Kadar. It was a small smile, but it made Kadar squirm with giddiness. Altair rarely smiled at  _ anyone _ . “I’ll try not to stay in my head so often, if it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t  _ bother _ me,” Kadar protested, “It’s just  _ weird _ . It’s not like you stopped helping me with my paper lessons or anything. And you still argue with Malik and Abbas, just maybe not as much.”

“Still,” Altair said, and reached forward to place a hand on Kadar’s head. It’s exactly like what Malik did when Kadar managed to worm in a hug. Altair  _ was _ a good brother, wasn’t he? Even if he didn’t have any blood brothers. “Thank you for telling me about it.”

Kadar rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help flush with pride.

0o0o0

Jacob frowned heavily, rubbing at his abdomen.

This wasn’t a  _ him _ pain, this was an  _ Evie _ pain, he could tell. What was up with her anyways? He stood and went looking for her, worried, because Evie could complain about  _ him _ all she liked, she was even  _ worse _ than he was with avoiding telling him when she was hurting.

“Evie!” Jacob called as he walked through the house.

He followed the vague sense of  _ Evie _ that he had in his head, and it led to their room. Their father promised that they would be getting their own rooms when they became teenagers, though why  _ teenagers _ was considered an appropriate time to split up, Jacob had no idea.

Either way, it was their room, and Evie was just… in bed. She was on her back, staring listlessly at the ceiling, hands resting on her stomach. The curtains were open at least, letting in the sweet summer sun and a gentle breeze.

“Evie?” Jacob asked, worried.

Evie blinked and looked at him. “Oh. Hi, Jacob.”

“Evie, what’s the matter?” Jacob pressed, climbing into bed with her. He hovered a hand over her abdomen where the pain was. “You’re  _ hurt _ , and I don’t know why.”

“Oh,” Evie said, blinking in realization. “You feel it too?”

“Of course I feel it,” Jacob scowled. He crossed his legs and his arms, knees nudging Evie on the side. “It hurts, and I’m only feeling a twin echo. Must be really painful for you.”

“I have the rather fortunate luck to have  _ extremely _ painful cramps,” Evie said. She was starting to use her big words, which was worrying. She only used her big words when she was anxious.

“Cramps?” Jacob repeated. Sure, that odd squeezing pain could be described as cramping, but this sounded like a  _ thing _ rather than a  _ description _ .

“Reproductive cycle,” Evie said clinically, voice toneless. Oh, yeah, this was bad. “It’s a part of puberty if you have a uterus, I’m afraid. It’s a signal that my body is entering its growing phase and I will soon be able to get pregnant.”

“And you have to  _ hurt _ to grow?” Jacob demanded. He very deliberately chose to forget that Evie could get pregnant. He didn’t think he and Evie were too young for a lot of things, but having children was  _ definitely _ one of them. “How is that fair?”

Evie smiled beatifically and reached up to pat Jacob on the face. “Jacob, love, if you ever find out,  _ please tell me _ .”

“Wait,” Jacob said in sudden realization, “How are the others taking it? They’re like, more connected to you and share pain more clearly.”

“Oh, Aveline, Jun, and Elise hate it because they understand,” Evie said lightly. “But Desmond, Altair, Ezio, and  Ratonhnhaké:ton are taking it stoically. They’re being rather kind, actually, and taking most of the pain for me.”

“And you still hurt  _ this much _ ?” Jacob asked, jaw dropping. “Evie, does your body hate you or something?”

“Probably,” Evie said thoughtfully. “Desmond is in charge of research. He’s going to take all the information that we have access to regarding painkillers and birth control and the reproductive cycle and will cross reference it with the information he has access to. Hopefully he can come up with something that I can make here that works.”

“I do too,” Jacob said seriously. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thank you,” Evie said. She didn’t even say it sarcastically, either.

Jacob nodded. Yeah, they  _ really _ needed to find a way to fix this.

0o0o0

“There should be more women Assassins,” Altair said. Blurted, really, as he made voice to a thought that had been rattling around all of their heads for the past few years, and past few months Altair had spent learning from the women of the garden.

Isra raised an eyebrow. As did a Sister, whose own shawl acted as her hood, and was was going over information in the garden. It would be written down and then handed to Al Mualim, who could not be seen engaging with the Sisters. At least, not directly in the castle.

“I don’t think you meant that in the way it sounded,” Isra said. After all, there  _ were _ women in the Order. They just didn’t wear hoods.

“I meant it exactly as I said. The women we have do good work. I know this, you’ve taught us plenty. But you could be  _ Assassins _ .” Altair said. He paused, thought, and then added, “And I guess more men should learn what you know as well, just to be fair.”

Isra laughed lightly. “Altair, dear, that is what we’ve been thinking for  _ years _ .” Beside her, the Sister nodded ruefully.

“So why don’t you bring it up with Al Mualim?” Altair asked.

“And where do you get your ridiculous ideas?” the Sister asked.

“Voices in my head,” Altair said very seriously. This was a Sister that didn’t know of Altair’s other selves. And the best way to make a truth a lie was to be  _ specific _ about it.

And so, the Sister, even trained in subterfuge as she was, rolled her eyes. Still, it was nice to be  _ trusted _ , because only in the gardens and their own quarters, away from the Brothers and the civilians, could they act in such a way.

Isra knew better, however. She hummed in thought. “You are well on your way to becoming a Master Assassin. You are Son of Umar and Maud, and those names carry weight, as well as your own accomplishments. I imagine that  _ you _ will have to be the one to start the change, if you truly feel this way about it.”

The Sister nodded next to Isra. Altair looked at her and- yes, she did look old enough to be contemporary to his parents. “You have your mother’s fiery spirit, that’s for certain,” she said amusedly.

Altair blinked at her, momentarily thrown from his current train of thought. “My mother?”

“Yes,” the Sister said. Before she could say anything else, one of their timekeeping bells went off beyond the wall. “Ah. You can ask around about stories, Altair. We would love to tell you. But for now, I must be off.”

“Be safe, Sister,” Isra and Altair said.

“Peace upon you,” the Sister replied. She stood up smoothly, adjusted her head scarf, and walked off to do her business. Altair watched as she walked past the boundary of the garden walls, and saw how her posture changed from the confident woman she was to a housewife.

Isra watched as well, and with golden eyes, glanced around the garden. It only took a glance for her to make certain that they were alone. “Now, what did you mean by your previous comment?”

“There should be more women Assassins,” Altair repeated. Next to him, Aveline, Evie, and Jun all nodded firmly. Even Elise was there, agreeing. As it was, there were no women Templars here, either.

“Trained as the Brothers are?” Isra asked.

“Yes,” Altair said. “Women are just as capable fighters as men. I should know, since I’ve got Elise, Aveline, Jun, and Evie in my head, and they’re all brilliant.”

Isra smiled. “Yes, I imagine they are. And I agree, fully. But for all our talk about our Creed, Masyaf is steeped in tradition. We will do what we can, here, my girls and I who know better than most. But  _ you _ are also a start.”

_ Altair Ibn-La’Ahad _ ,  _ Mentor of the Levantine Brotherhood. The originator of the Order of Assassins as it is known today _ .

Altair frowned, as he  _ remembered _ that. Evie and Desmond and Elise had said that, hadn’t they? Where he was well known enough to be remembered as the start of his own line, with no mention of his parents at all.

The three far in the future that knew their history well enough to discuss the rest of it between themselves. Altair would forget it again soon like they all did, but… it was  _ something _ . He had a  _ feeling _ , if not the actual knowledge to hold on to.

Yes. He was the start. And it would be for the  _ future _ , and for his other selves who would be born centuries from now, their own lives shaped by what Altair would do here, and even beyond that, to everyone else who wished to fight.

The thought crystalized, determination backed by  _ all _ of his other selves.

0o0o0


	7. Embers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jun meets ezio and learns things
> 
> time is a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, stuff. just a big mess overall guys

Jun lost her Mentor in Venice. The last she saw of him was when he pushed her into a  _ bordello _ , asking the courtesans in stilted Italian to hide her while he led the Tigers away. Jun didn’t know why the women hid her without question, but thought it might be because of her robes.

They had the red sash, the insignia, and the hood of the Assassins. So even though her robes were dark and the style different, the courtesans knew to keep her safe.

Her Mentor didn’t come back, and Jun knew that he was dead. She stayed with the courtesans for several days afterwards, remaining hidden, and mourning the death of the man she considered a father. Despite her grief, she helped where she was able, often doing small repairs within the building, and keeping an eye on the men that frequented the house.

She also, of course, helped train the women. They were self sufficient of course, their  _ madame _ knew what she was doing. But there was a difference in what they could do, and what an Assassin could do. Jun did what she could.

“You are a good teacher, June,” one of the courtesans said. The name was a compromise. It sounded similar enough to her name, but had the Italian twist that made it entirely unlike her name at all. Those that spoke of her outside the  _ bordello _ walls would give no implication to her true origin.

“I try,” Jun replied softly. She kept her accent, though her Italian was native, considering Ezio shared it with her. The accent also hid how she spoke Italian like a Florentine, because that would be incredibly awkward to explain otherwise.

“You will do good, when you find what you are looking for,” the other woman said, and pressed a hand to Jun’s arm. “Thank you for what you have done here, even if we were not an intended stop on your way forward.”

Jun managed to smile at her. The women here  _ were _ wonderful. And they looked to Jun and  _ saw _ what she was. An Assassin, yes, but also a  _ concubine _ . The manner in which they were treated was different, but they were the same still. These were here sisters, like the girls she had left behind at home, and had been unable to save. And, like her, they took what would be considered a shackle and used it to live as they saw fit.

“Thank you,” Jun said instead. The woman smiled at her, and the expression told Jun that she was understood.

With that, they helped Jun pack for her continuing trip. Jun knew where she was going, and it would take a couple of weeks. The Tigers would still be looking for her, and changing out of her robes into something else would help hide her. She still kept them, of course, along all of her weapons. But the courtesans knew how to dress her so that she was still foreign, but not in the same manner that Jun truly was.

Ah, but Jun  _ had _ to spend more time with the prostitutes on her way back. There was much to be learned in their halls.

Jun thought her travels would be lonely, if not for her other selves. They were with her, always, and mourned her Mentor’s death the same way she did. They kept her company, and kept her own determination firm, even as she travelled further than anything she had ever known.

“I’m waiting for you,” Ezio said as they got closer to where Jun  _ felt _ he would be.

“Keep going,” Altair said grimly as he kept his Eagle Vision activated. His second sight was still the strongest and most nuanced. Matched with Jun, who had  _ area awareness _ , and they kept safe and unnoticed.

“Yes,” Jun agreed, and kept going.

She spent her nineteenth birthday traveling. Jun found some ruins on the side of the road, settled in as safely as she could, and spent the day with her other selves. It was fun, and though they all kept an eye on her surroundings, Jun was treated to a world-wide, centuries-spanning birthday celebration.

After eleven years of knowing each other, they knew what worked and what didn’t work for all of them. And right now, Jun needed something to distract her from being hunted.

Eventually, Jun crested a hill and found herself in front of a vineyard. And just beyond it, a villa, done up in stone and wood. It was isolated on its hill, but it was out of the way of most things. A building that had a good vantage point for defense, but of no important consequence in the larger scheme of things.

The perfect place for an Assassin, retired as they might be from leading the Order.

Jun moved forward, her gut twisting in apprehension and excitement. Still, she was aware that Ezio was in his  _ sixties _ now, and likely stayed with his family. That was what the information she gathered before arriving implied. He would be wary and protective, like any of them would be, and who knew what sort of traps he would have set up to keep his family safe?

Jun went to the edge of the vineyard, intending to call for Ezio. She did not want to step beyond that boundary, aware that Ezio would immediately sense her presence. Her other selves all slipped away from her side.

Ezio,  _ her Ezio _ , was with her, but there was an Ezio  _ here _ that would have his own Jun. To be safe, to be  _ cautious _ , they all felt it would be best for them to refrain from being there physically. From visiting. Instead, they nestled in the back of Jun’s mind, watchful but slightly separate.

She didn’t find Ezio, first. No, Jun found a young girl instead. She wore a red dress with golden stitching of the  _ fleur de lis _ , and even at this distance Jun could see how fine the cloth and the make was. Her hair was deep brown and pulled half back, and she wore a flower crown.

“Oh,” Jun breathed when the girl looked at her, eyes flashing golden briefly.

Considering her age, she likely didn’t even realize that she had used her second sight. Still, that brief use was enough for the young girl to walk up to her fearlessly, holding flowers leftover from making her flower crown.

As she got closer, Jun noticed the familiar features of Ezio. The shape of her eyes, even though they weren’t blue. The shape of her nose, and her lips. The line of her jaw, even as it was soft and round with childish fat.

“Hello,” the child said, smiling up at her. She held out a flower to Jun. “I’m Flavia.”

Jun took the flower, and tucked it underneath her hood and behind her ear. It was mostly hidden, but Flavia still looked pleased. So  _ fearless _ , this child. They were isolated on this hill, and the vineyard made good hiding spots, even under the midday sun. Jun could count several places where she could cause harm to a person in their immediate vicinity without being noticed. And Flavia was  _ fearless _ .

“Hello,” Jun greeted, voice soft and wondrous as she looked down at  _ Ezio’s daughter _ . They knew that they’d all find people to marry and have families of their own, but that seemed like a  _ future _ worry. To meet such concrete evidence was almost overwhelming. “My name is Jun. It is nice to meet you, Flavia.”

“Jun?” Flavia repeated. Her eyes lit up, and Flavia reached forward to grab her hand. “Auntie Jun! Papa said you’d visit, one day!”

“Oh,” Jun said, momentarily thrown. She should have known that Ezio wouldn’t hide them from his family. He was never shy about it around his siblings, of course he’d never hide it from his  _ children _ . “Yes, he did,” Jun agreed.

_ ‘I’m waiting for you _ ,’ Ezio had said. Yes, and it seemed he had been waiting for  _ decades _ to meet her in person. Even with Jun in his head, that was a long time to wait.

Flavia beamed up at her, and continued to hold her hand as she started tugging Jun around the perimeter of the vineyard. “Papa also said that you’d look different than what he painted when you arrived. I can tell! You’re not as old. But you’re just as pretty as Papa always said you were!”

“Thank you,” Jun said amusedly, and allowed herself to be tugged around. Strangely, Flavia didn’t take her  _ within _ the vineyard just yet. “You look like your father.”

“I do?” Flavia asked, blinking curiously up at Jun. “Most everyone says that I look like Mama.”

“You do look like your mother,” Jun agreed. The shape of her brows, the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her hair. They must be similar to the unknown mother. “But you also look like Ezio. When he was my age.”

“Oh!” Flavia said, and smiled broadly. “There’s not many people around from when Papa was younger. Though Marcello has the same eyes as Papa, he looks more like Mama. At least I think so. Or even Federica, but she’s not around as often.”

_ ‘Federica _ ?’ Jun thought. If Flavia spoke of her like family, then perhaps it was a daughter named after Federico. Probably not a sister, though. Maybe Claudia or Petruccio’s child, then? Jun couldn’t see Federico naming a child after himself.

Flavia continued in that manner as she led Jun around the edge of the vineyard. She talked a lot and happily, about everything and nothing at all. It painted a picture of a life Jun was so,  _ so _ glad to see; Flavia was a happy child with a happy life, and didn’t want for anything.

However, Jun didn’t let that distract her. She kept using her Eagle Vision, straining her awareness as far and as strongly as she could. It wasn’t just  _ her _ life on the line. There was a child here, one  _ important _ to her, and Jun would watch the world burn before she let  _ any _ of her family be hurt on her watch. She had failed before. Never again.

It was her second sight that warned her that she had strayed into the sight of another. That new presence was  _ blue _ to her, safe, and Jun allowed herself to remain seen. She had an idea of who it was, but for some reason she felt shy.

“Jun?” a soft voice asked, voice breathless and hoarse with age. Still, Jun would recognize that voice anywhere.

She turned, and made eye contact with Ezio. She stopped breathing for a moment as she took in his appearance.

_ His hair is short _ , Jun thought, and the first thing she noticed. Cut close to his ears like Desmond and Altair, even if it was flatter than either of their curly mess. Then she recognized that it was gunmetal gray, the temples near white. His face was lined with wrinkles, from smiling and frowning both. His eyes, though, were the same.

Jun’s heart  _ reached _ for him- and it was then that she noticed that she couldn’t  _ feel _ her other selves. They were there, distant, in the back of her mind, but she couldn't  _ feel _ them. Jun spared a second of pure panic at the sensation before she  _ knew _ that it  _ wasn’t _ because she couldn’t speak with them anymore, but because Ezio was there in front of her.

Jun could feel him, but it was distant and muffled. She poked that feeling, and startled slightly when she felt Ezio poke her right back. It took a second of thought but-  _ ah, yes _ . They couldn’t  _ feel _ each other that way because they were so intimately connected with their own age group.

But this was still  _ Ezio _ , and she knew that. She could feel it, in her heart. So Jun smiled lightly at Flavia, who looked confused, and walked up to Ezio. And, almost without meaning to, she reached up and pinched his cheeks. His skin was soft and aged, completely different yet entirely the same as with  _ her _ Ezio.

“You’re  _ old _ , Ezio,” Jun said, smiling. Her eyes ached. Tears, probably. She did not mind at all, because she was meeting one of her other selves.

Ezio barked out a laugh, his own eyes wetting. Then he pulled her into a tight hug, and the pair clung to each other with all the feelings that they never had to say to each other. The hold was different than what she was used to, arms weaker with age, but they held strength in them that Jun knew would never leave.

“It’s you,” Ezio said when they managed to pull apart. He still held her hands in his own, and Jun didn’t care to pull them away. He grinned at her, the expression as boyish and charming as it always was. “I’ve been waiting for  _ years _ , Jun. You’re late.”

“Traveling from China to here takes some time, Ezio. Though I did not expect you to age so terribly in the meantime, either,” Jun said, teasing in return.

A lie, and they both knew it. Ezio was a charming young man, and it turned out that he was a charming old man, too. He better be, or Jun and the others would be disappointed in his wife’s decision making skills. Elise for certain would sabotage that relationship herself to protect their shared dignity.

“Papa?” Flavia asked, looking up at them both curiously.

“You’ve already met Jun, have you?” Ezio asked Flavia, still smiling. He looked to Jun. “Come on, then. It’s harvest time, and if you’re here, I may as well put you to work.”

“I’m free labor, am I?” Jun asked.

“Of course. What else are you good for?” Ezio replied easily. He picked up the basket and placed it in Jun’s arms. “Flavia, would you go grab another basket?”

Flavia hesitated, but nodded. “I’ll be right back!” she said, and ran off.

Ezio and Jun both watched her fondly. “She’s a good child,” Jun said.

“She is,” Ezio agreed. “Flavia is my eldest, and she takes after her mother in temperment.”

“Who is this woman, then?” Jun asked, and followed Ezio to the edge of the row.

“My darling Sofia,” Ezio said, voice and expression so very, very soft, and very, very fond. Jun’s heart  _ ached _ hearing it, and she knew she would not stop feeling that ache until  _ her _ Ezio found this Sofia.

“She must be a saint, to put up with you,” Jun teased lightly.

“That’s what everyone said, yes,” Ezio said cheerfully, and he started harvesting the grapes. “But she did agree to marry me.”

“Where is she?”

“She is with Marcello in the city, visiting Claudia,” Ezio said. “You will have to meet everyone while you are here. The novices especially will be glad to meet you.”

“I’ll do that, then,” Jun said. She looked forward to meeting Claudia  _ in person _ , though she wondered what the novices knew of her. Ezio was more free with the knowledge of their existence, so she imagined he wouldn’t hide it from those he taught.

Still, she would do her best to train them. Ezio was skilled, and strong, despite his age. That much was obvious. But age changed everyone, and it was likely that Jun could help, even with the decades of difference in experience between the two of them now.

“Ah-” Jun said, as a thought occurred to her. “Do the children know of Assassins?”

For the first time since they met in person, Ezio frowned. “No, and I would ask that you do not tell them.”

“That will be dangerous, Ezio,” Jun said softly, worriedly. “You are well known in this time as the Mentor, and for all that you have done. You are hidden, here, by your anonymity and by the efforts of the guilds in Italy. But determined enemies will find you regardless.”

“I know,” Ezio sighed heavily, “And we have set training up for them, in the future. But it is something that I do not wish upon them.”

“We never do,” Jun said. She herself witnessed the deaths of her sisters in arms before she found salvation in the Assassins.

Before they could continue, Flavia returned, panting heavily from the running. She had an extra basket, which she held proudly. “Papa! Auntie Jun! I brought a basket!”

“Yes, thank you, Flavia,” Ezio said, taking it from Flavia. “Why don’t you help us? At least until your mother and brother return.”

Flavia made a face at being asked to work, but nodded. “Okay.”

“She is adorable, and stubborn, and you will feel everything we felt growing up with you,” Jun told Ezio in Mandarin.

“She already does!” Ezio said in the same language, cheerful and unrepentant. “Oh, and you haven’t even gotten to literally everything else we’ve done yet.”

“I look forward to it,” Jun said dryly.

“Papa!” Flavia whined, “You promised you wouldn’t speak another language around me!”

“I did, I did,” Ezio agreed, switching back to Italian. “Sorry! Jun didn’t know about my promise, though.”

“Don’t blame me for not keeping your promises,” Jun said.

Flavia giggled, irritation forgotten immediately. Ezio made an exaggerated face at Jun, but Jun knew better. So did Flavia.

Together, with Flavia and Ezio, the day passed quickly. It took several hours, and Jun was hot underneath the sun, but it was  _ worth _ it. Being with another self was worth it all. Like this, she could even momentarily forget that she was being hunted, and the loss of her Mentor.

Sofia and Marcello eventually returned, and they both looked surprised at Jun’s appearance. Marcello really did look like his mother, though the way he held himself reminded her more of Petruccio. And he, like Flavia, was just as excited to meet Jun.

“I am very glad to meet you,” Sofia said. She smiled at Jun, “Though I did not expect you to be so young. Ezio explained that despite the time differences, you grew up at the same time instead of separate.”

“That is how it works,” Jun said, nodding her head in respect to this gentlewoman, and the core of steel she carried within. “I did not expect Ezio to be this age, either. He is an old man with short hair that he would be ashamed of when he was younger.”

Ezio made a pained face at her from where he was sitting.

Sofia laughed. “You sound exactly as you do when you speak through Ezio!”

“I hope my voice doesn’t sound like his,” Jun said, “Because I am a Master Singer, and there are some atrocities I will not accept. Not even for one of my other selves.”

“You still do not accept it, I promise,” Sofia said, eyes alight with amusement. “Ezio has learned some control under your tutelage, but it is only enough to sing a lullaby.”

“That is better than what he can do now,” Jun said, pressing a hand to her chest in exaggerated motion. Oh, but she  _ liked _ Sofia even from this brief interaction.

Sofia nodded, then turned serious. Her brow furrowed, and though she was not angry, she  _ looked _ at Jun. “I’m sorry, I truly am glad to meet you. But you are not here just to visit.”

Jun blinked at the sudden change in conversation, but nodded. “Yes. I am here to speak with the Mentor of the Italian Brotherhood. The one who rebuilt his Order from the ground up.”

“Ezio is retired,” Sofia said softly, but her eyes were sharp. And it was not a declination.

“He is,” Jun agreed, “And for a family, which we will not hold against him. Have not held against him. But there are decades between us, and I need the help for my own Order.”

“I have known this conversation was coming already,” Ezio said, and held Sofia’s hand in his own. “And I have spent years and years thinking about what Jun could have asked me, would need my help for. I remember helping her, but it was my words and this conversation that paved the path.”

“It’s a bit daunting on both sides,” Jun said. “I, who have questions for a version of myself that is decades older. And Ezio, who has had the expectation of answering placed upon him.”

Sofia looked between them and nodded in understanding. “For all that you act like nothing has changed, and you truly are meeting someone you’ve known your entire life, this meeting is incredibly odd to the both of you, isn’t it?”

Jun and Ezio shared a glance. Even with the muted separation between the pair of them, they still had a connection that no one else they’ve ever met had. For all that Ezio had obviously explained to his family, there was only so much that they could convey properly.

“You have no idea, my love,” Ezio said ruefully. “It is… well, I don’t want to say awkward, but it is incredibly awkward.”

“Well,” Sofia said, a drawn out and thoughtful sound. She clapped her hands after a moment. “It is late, and I know for a fact that my husband is free tomorrow. Why don’t we all go to bed, and you can have your conversation later?”

“That does sound best,” Ezio agreed, “I am old, and I tire easily. Especially when keeping Flavia entertained and from causing mischief.”

“That is your fault. She takes after you,” Jun said.

“Not entirely, I promise,” Sofia denied, amused. “Now, come on, dear. Jun, we have a guest room that you can use. I’m sure that you are also tired from traveling.”

“Thank you,” Jun said.

The next day, Ezio led Jun into town, taking her on a tour of Firenze. It was different, and odd. A look forward in time compared to looking backwards. The buildings were mostly the same, the layout familiar, but things had a new polish to them that Jun was unfamiliar with.

“My hometown. Ah, how I love you, and how much has both changed and yet stayed the same,” Ezio said, looking around. “I did not care to notice the changes recently, but having you here reminds me of what it looked like when I was younger.”

“It is odd, to see how it will look like,” Jun said, “It’s like nostalgia, but for the future.”

“You should have seen Altair’s reaction when I went to Masyaf,” Ezio said, laughing lightly.

“You went to Masyaf?” Jun asked.

“Yes,” Ezio said, “And it was an adventure to Masyaf, and to Constantinople that I met Sofia.”

“I look forward to it, then,” Jun said. “That reminds me, we must find a way to get Desmond to Masyaf in his time.” The changes were sure to be extensive after a near millennium.

“I think it will look even more different than it already does,” Ezio said after a brief pause. “Or you could send Evie. She travels in that direction, when she finds her own love.”

“Something else to look forward to, then,” Jun said, wondering at another piece of this future they would walk into. Jun and Ezio walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, as Ezio went about doing chores that Sofia had assigned to them. “Is it difficult, trying to find what to tell me that won’t ruin our future?”

Ezio looked to her, and smiled wryly. “Yes. I knew some of what happened, of course. But what you tell us happened decades ago for me, and much has happened in the meantime. So the specifics are off, especially since I am also somewhat disconnected from my other selves.”

“Especially Evie?” Jun asked. Evie had the best memory for this sort of thing, after all.

“Especially Evie,” Ezio agreed. “But- ah, here we are.” Ezio led them to a bench, where he sat down gracefully and with a relieved sigh.

Jun looked around- it was the  _ Palazzo della Signoria _ . It was used as an execution space during her time. Now it looked like a plaza with celebrations and dancing. What a change, and a welcome one as well.

“You had questions about the Order, and what we did to rebuild it,” Ezio said, looking at the plaza. “There is much you know, as you learned collectively. But there is much you will learn, that  _ we _ learned, since we were young.”

“Yes,” Jun said softly. Ezio looked over the  _ Palazzo _ with such an odd look in his eye. What happened here? What  _ will _ happen here, for her Ezio?

“Here is where half of my family was killed,” Ezio said into the silence. “I was only a teenager, then. Younger than you. Ah, but you remember this of course. It was only a couple of years ago to you now.”

Jun went  _ still _ , glad for her hood to hide the widening of her eyes, and that Ezio’s attention was still on the plaza.  _ What _ ? That is most certainly  _ not _ what happened. Yes, the Auditore were framed, but they had  _ freed _ them. Unearthed the traitors in their midst.

If Ezio had just said that his family was killed, she would be  _ heartbroken _ , and prepare for that future, and try to advert it. But to say that his family was hanged, here, when they were seventeen-

_Time_. They were of different times. Things cannot exist in the same time without influencing the other. The past altered the future, but the future also affected the past. There were theories and theories about time travel. Desmond looked at them all, because the eight of them spanned centuries, and there was _so_ _much_ that they could do to affect each other.

Jun inclined her head to show Ezio that she was paying attention. That was a difference, but much of what they said already proved that they were not  _ different _ . This was still Ezio, and he was still another self. The connection they still shared proved that,  _ regardless _ of the divergence.

“...I am glad that we are slightly separated,” Jun admitted. Because if her Ezio truly did lose his family here, then she would not want to bring him her so soon after. She didn’t want  _ her _ Ezio to hear this, either.

“No, I wouldn’t want to be here so soon,” Ezio said. He looked to her with decades long pain in his eyes. “There is much to say, about the Order, and how I rebuilt it. I think, to make it easier, I will talk to you as if you are not another self. If only to keep my own thoughts in order about it.”

“To treat me as if I were an Assassin that came here for help,” Jun mused. Likely, her Mentor would be treated as such, if he had made it here with her. She nodded, “Yes, that would help, I think. For both of us.”

“Come on, then,” Ezio said, standing and holding out a hand to her. “There is much to do, and we can talk while we move.”

“Free labor, I am,” Jun sighed exaggeratedly.

“Of course,” Ezio agreed.

Jun followed Ezio, thoughts racing. Her hand rose to her chest and her jade medallion, almost unconsciously. Much to learn from  _ Ezio Auditore da Firenze _ indeed.

She wished her Mentor was here.

0o0o0

  
  



	8. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> malik is as thinky as evie, but in a different way. kind of fun to write actually
> 
> the way desmond gets captured by abstergo is gonna go a bit differently in this universe...
> 
> elise is One of Them, and they will all fight whoever says she isn't. lucy may or may not also go differently because of it
> 
> jacob is one of the few canonically bisexual characters we have in... kind of a lot of media. will also probably write ned in the future too because he's a canon trans!man and representation is important
> 
> anyways i'm gearing up to write the animus chapters. which will be chapters as themselves between all these drabbles and stuff, if only to keep it organized and easy to find. it does mean that there probably will be longer times between updates bc i'll be writing both drabble chapters and animus chapters at the same time

“Ratonhnhaké:ton!” Elise called gleefully, jogging up to him from the edge of the field.

He blinked at her. Ratonhnhaké:ton gently released his bow string and put the arrow back in its holster. He was testing a new bow so it wasn’t as if Elise interrupted him. Regardless, he always had time for one of his other selves.

“Elise,” Ratonhnhaké:ton greeted. “What’s going on?”

“Come, come!” Elise said, and grabbed his hand. “Arno has shown me his hidden blade, and I think it’s one you’ll like! I know I do!”

“Okay,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, amused at Elise’s cheeriness. And that she didn’t acknowledge the innuendo. Usually Ezio and Elise were the  _ first _ to do so. Well, Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn’t bring it up if she didn’t.

Elise  _ pulled _ , and Ratonhnhaké:ton found himself in Elise’s home. She led him to her rooms, where Arno was waiting. “Arno, I’ve brought Ratonhnhaké:ton!”

“Hello, Ratonhnhaké:ton,” Arno said, eyes golden as he  _ looked _ to where Ratonhnhaké:ton was standing. Arno spoke slowly, drawing the syllables of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s name out. Arno was one who did his absolute best to make sure he pronounced his name right.

“Better,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said approvingly, “Just work on saying it quickly, now.”

“Thank you,” Arno said, pleased. “Elise wanted to show you my hidden blade, yes?”

“Yes,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

Arno held out his wrist, and the bracer that held the usual hidden blade in place. The bracer was as normal, worn brown leather strapped around the forearm.

“The blade isn’t a blade at all,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, studying it. “It is modified to separate into a new form like my own blade, but that’s all I can tell. What does it turn into?”

“The French Assassins call it the phantom blade,” Arno said. He flicked his wrist, and it spread into what looked like a crossbow. “The blade itself is flat and thin, and can be fired like this. And though it is not as durable as a regular hidden blade, it can be used as such.”

“It gives options,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. He could imagine them, too. Much like his own blades were capable of being tools, this one provided distance. And as a crossbow instead of the hidden gun that Ezio had found the Codex pages for, it was  _ quiet _ . “Elise was right, I do like this.”

“I do as well,” Arno agreed. “There are poisons that the French, both Assassins and Templars, are familiar with that make being at a distance a safety concern as well as a practical one. I’m learning of them now.”

“You can add poison to the blade?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked. “No, it’s obvious. There are grooves in the metal that would hold onto a poison easily.”

“Yes. Not that I have access to  _ those _ yet,” Arno said.

Ratonhnhaké:ton hummed. No, he wouldn’t, would he? Arno had only been training for the past year or so. He’d very recently gotten his hidden blade, so their focus would be to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

Ratonhnhaké:ton remembered when he had gotten his blades, and though he relished in the added weight, it did take weeks for him to get  _ comfortable _ with it.

They’d have to get Altair to study the blades. He was a blacksmith when he wasn’t an acting Assassin. Altair liked to learn how things worked, he’d love the phantom blade. He had taken the idea that he wrote the Codex and, as Desmond would say,  _ ran with it _ .

He already had the plans for the blades that didn’t require sacrificing the ring finger, and had started on how the blades Ratonhnhaké:ton used were made. A crossbow would be another fine start…

0o0o0

“You know,” Desmond said thoughtfully as he looked at both Ratonhnhaké:ton and Jun. “I know it works, the proof is in literally everything we do. But what makes absolutely no sense is that you can switch places, and the sheer  _ height difference _ doesn’t cause problems for you. Or any of us, really. But especially you two.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton and Jun looked at Desmond, and then at each other. Jun, when she stood straight, barely came up to Ratonhnhaké:ton’s shoulder. There was more than a foot of height difference between the two of them, and they were the shortest and the tallest respectively.

“Well, we know  _ why _ it works,” Jun pointed out, “Because we share bodies as if they were our own.”

“The self-perception is what it is,” Ratonhnhaké:ton added, shrugging.

Evie showed up then, having heard the direction of their conversation. She looked between the two of them. “Do you suppose it’s because we’re all trained similarly that it doesn’t cause more problems? Because Jun is much more agile and flexible than the rest of us combined, and Ratonhnhaké:ton has reach only Desmond can  _ kind of _ match.”

“For physical stuff? Probably,” Desmond said.

Jun tilted her head, “Self-perception, like Ratonhnhaké:ton said. He has more reach than I do, so when I switch with him, I think I see myself closer than his  _ body _ is, to account for the size difference.”

“I wonder if we can set up something so we can test it?” Evie asked. “Would a…  _ video recorder _ show us, or would our self-perception filter to that as well?”

“Either I could go visit, or Ratonhnhaké:ton can visit me,” Aveline said, appearing. “We’d have to justify it to our respective Mentors, but I’m certain we can spend some time with each other around our missions.”

“Would Gerard be willing to play objective viewpoint?” Desmond asked her, excited about the idea of it despite himself. “It’d be nice if we could get you to France, but that’d be a lot harder. And we can’t get Elise to visit you two, because she’s still very young when you are.”

“Gerard would love it,” Aveline said dryly, “He is information specialist, and he does know about all of you.”

“Well, it’s a plan,” Desmond said. “It’ll probably take a while for an in-person visit, especially on Aveline’s end. In the meantime, I can grab a video camera here, and we can test out the self-perception thing.”

0o0o0

Malik glared at Altair as he helped Kadar go through his sword stances. It wasn’t an unusual sight, and that wasn’t what Malik had a problem with. Rauf trusted Altair’s skill, as did Malik, for all that he pretended otherwise.

No, Malik had no problem with Altair training Kadar. He would never admit it upon pain of death, but Altair was a  _ good _ teacher, whenever he actually taught.

What he had a problem with was  _ what _ Kadar was being taught.

Those were not forms Malik was familiar with. Yes, the basic stance was the same- for all their fluidity and expectation to adapt, there were only so many different ways to use the short swords Assassins favored. But the way Altair nudged Kadar into moving  _ between _ the stances, and adjusted his form to the correct one…

Those were not what they were taught.

It was bad enough that Altair knew those forms. No, what was worse was that  _ Rauf _ knew those forms, and the man was the best swordsman Masyaf had in a generation. And if Rauf knew those forms, then he would be  _ teaching _ them, as he had taken it upon himself to be the sword instructor for all of the novices and journeyman. But he wasn’t.

Oh, if a novice and a journeyman  _ asked _ Rauf to teach them the new forms he had, Rauf gladly did so. But those forms were similar enough that most of them did not know to ask at all. Malik  _ knew _ , but he refrained for several reasons.

The main one was because he had no idea where they came from. Where this new sword style came from, and how both Altair and Rauf knew it. Malik  _ would _ think that it was something that the two of them had come up on their own while they sparred, but something in Malik’s gut told him that wasn’t true.

No, Malik had the feeling it came from  _ Altair _ , and why he was so quiet. Because Altair wasn’t always  _ Altair _ . And Malik would feel near insane thinking that way, but Malik trusted his senses, trusted his logic, and trusted his conclusions.

He spent time trying disprove all of this theories, and when nothing came up that explained what he observed away, decided that what he observed was the truth.

_ Nothing is true, everything is permitted _ , as the saying went. It was more than just a permission for everything that they did, though.

Malik did not quite  _ understand _ their Creed the way that the Masters did; Masters were  _ Masters _ for a reason, and though rare, there were Master Assassins that held the title despite being the wrong rank.

No, he didn’t understand, but he knew that people saw the world differently, which meant the world  _ could be _ different for everyone. Like an Assassin’s second sight, which wasn’t common, but not rare either.

It wasn’t a bone-deep feeling, but it was one that made the Masters smile proudly, so Malik knew he was on the right track.

Some time later, Rauf arrived to talk with Altair, and his arrival drew Malik from his thoughts. Kadar smiled at the both of them before walking to Malik, visibly grateful for the momentary break.

“What’s wrong?” Kadar asked, having caught his brother’s glare. “That’s your thinking glare, not your bad mood glare.”

Malik turned his glare on his brother, who only blinked guilelessly up at him. Kadar had made note of all of Malik’s glares, and could categorize them easily. It was annoying, because Kadar often mentioned it to his agemates.

“Altair,” Malik said.

“You always think something is wrong with Altair,” Kadar pointed out.

Malik did  _ not _ , but he could admit that he often complained about him. Altair knew not to hold it against him, and also when he was being unnecessarily cruel. Altair also knew when Malik was legitimately complaining about something instead of just making conversation. It was what made their relationship work, for all that they argued.

Kadar  _ looked _ at Malik. He did not have the second sight, but he was uncannily perceptive. Malik had no idea where he got that from; probably their mother, who Malik  _ swore _ had eyes in the back of her head. “You could always just  _ ask _ .”

“Ugh,” Malik said, and made a face. He glared back at Altair, who spoke with Rauf. Neither paid Malik any attention, but it would be foolish to assume that they weren’t aware of him. “Fine.”

“Did you need something?” Altair asked when Malik walked up to him and Rauf.

Malik glared at him, went over everything he had  _ observed _ in his head, and said, “You are  _ infuriating _ .”

Altair raised an eyebrow while Rauf chuckled quietly. “Yes, you tell me that often enough. Is this a specific thing or should I assume the usual?”

“Were you ever going to tell me that you’re not always Altair?” Malik demanded.

He felt vicious satisfaction when Altair’s eyes widened and he  _ stared _ at Malik. It was so rare for Altair to express emotions like a proper human being, no matter that Malik had gotten used to reading his eyes.

“Oh,” Altair said softly, and glanced at Rauf.

“Go, go, you have some stuff to talk about, it seems,” Rauf said, waving a hand. “You never did tell me why you didn’t tell Malik  _ before _ now.”

“So you  _ have _ been keeping secrets,” Malik said victoriously. And oddly hurt. Whatever, it wasn’t any of his business, clearly.

Altair  _ looked _ at Malik, studying him. His focus sharpened, and Malik could tell that he was using his second sight. It would be insulting, if Altair hadn’t already explained that he sometimes didn’t realize he was using it at all.

Which was odd, considering he had said he saw the world in colored smoke when he did so, but Malik already knew that Altair could be incredibly  _ dumb _ .

“Yes, I suppose I have,” Altair sighed, and turned his gaze to the towers that made up the walls of the fortress. “I’ll meet you at the parapet,” he said, and ran off.

Malik blinked in surprise at the sudden motion, and then sighed, and then let out a low string of curses, unsure as to why he was surprised by that at all. He nodded a farewell to Rauf, eyed Kadar to make sure he didn’t follow, and then turned to run after Altair.

He really was infuriating.

0o0o0

“The Templars have New York City,” Desmond stated, eyeing Abstergo HQ with a critical eye.

He didn’t bother looking at it with his second sight; he knew what he would see. And long-held instincts for the neutral-innocent people held within a glowing red building would be rather hard to deny, this close to them all. Especially for those few that would glow blue, unaware of the true danger that they worked around.

“Yes,” Altair said, watching the building with distaste. It was a sentiment that echoed through the entire line of them all.

_ ‘If you got nothing, go to New York. That way, if you leave with nothing, people don’t ask why. And if you leave with something, then you are one lucky son of a bitch.’ _

Desmond had spent two years in Chicago, acclimating to being around so many people. It was culture shock on all of their parts, because Chicago was the most populated city  _ any _ of them had been to. Desmond did okay, but had made sights to New York when a stranger had given him that advice. It was as good as any.

Now, after spending another few months meandering to New York City, here he was, almost nineteen years old. Somehow, he hadn’t expected the angry red glow that sat right in the center of the city. Desmond should have; he had  _ known _ about Abstergo.

“Well,” Evie said slowly, “That’s not right, now is it?”

Desmond could feel her thoughts circling around to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who would become Mentor of the newborn United States of America Order of Assassins, following the change into the new era with the previous Colonial Assassins. Ratonhnhaké:ton, who had decimated the Templar Order, and disrupted their power on a global scale, forcing the Templars to set off another French Revolution, if the records were right.

To see New York City become a Templar city base? No, it wasn’t something either of them liked.

“What,” Evie said grimly, looking to Desmond, feeling his own distaste in return. “Are you going to  _ do _ about it?”

Desmond stood straight, and his hands clenched. If he had a hidden blade- oh, but he  _ didn’t _ , they were ‘obsolete’ not to mention he had no resources to make one- a gun would be easier- he could find a blacksmith- where would he find that one- who could he  _ talk to _ that wouldn’t lead the Templars straight to him- who…

“I,” Desmond said, realizing exactly where his thoughts were headed. He twisted his hand in the motion that would release a hidden blade, if he had one. A nervous tick Assassins tended to get after a few years. “Am going to start  _ recruiting _ .”

If there was one thing that would be his saving grace at this critical time, it was that Templars were elitists. They thought themselves above others, and in the process of manipulating people to achieve their goals, forgot that the people were  _ smart _ . That they weren’t stupid, mindless, sheep that couldn't act out on their own. Especially now, with the wealth of power that Abstergo Industries had.

It would take time. Desmond was young, and he had absolutely  _ no _ resources; he barely had a place to sleep at night. Thieves, sex workers, spies, informants, merchants- they were all separated, and had no Guilds or even gangs to keep them together. Whatever network existed would be either Assassin or Templar controlled, and Desmond could not afford to bring the attention of either. Not after working for so long to get  _ away _ .

But Desmond was not  _ alone _ .

Desmond had gotten this far under his own power, his adaptability, help from his other selves, and the kindness of strangers. Even from those pragmatic enough to recognize how Desmond could be  _ useful _ , asking him to do something for them, was done kindly, if not for kindness.

“The Order of Assassins of this time is not the Brotherhood that we know,” Altair said, and placed his hand on Desmond’s shoulder. “Too military-like, too separated, no cohesion or trust in the Creed, or the tenants.”

“The Templars of this time are not what we know,” Elise said, her own hand placed on his other shoulder, a well-loved parody of the usual shoulder angel and devil. “They view themselves as gods, instead of leaders that would bring about peace and understanding.”

“But  _ I _ am here,” Desmond said.

“ _ We _ are here,” Ezio corrected. And next to him, all of his other selves stood proudly, beaked hoods brought up to shadow their eyes.

Desmond took a deep breath. He eyed Abstergo Headquarters once more, and then turned away.

He had work to do.

0o0o0

_ “Dodge _ ,” a familiar voice whispered, and Ezio followed the command near automatically.

He shared his heart and mind with seven people who were trained to fight. It was ingrained into Ezio to  _ listen _ whenever they gave him instruction when he found himself in a fight. As he got better and more skilled, they would stop and let him figure it out on his own.

Ezio wasn’t near that skill level yet, though, and he dropped to the ground in an Assassin’s crouch. The sudden movement startled the other teenagers he was fighting, and Ezio grinned up at them. It was easy then, to rush forward and use Evie’s skills to take them all down.

He might’ve been more brutal than he needed to be, but Ezio could and would cheerfully place the blame at Evie’s feet.

When the fight was done, and Ezio climbed to the top of the nearest roof, he poked at his other self, the one who had told him to dodge. It felt like Desmond. “Thanks for the warning!”

It took a second for the reply to come through. That wasn’t that unusual, now that they were closer to twenty than ten. When they were busy in their own times and places, they often spoke to each other instead of visiting. “ _ Not a problem _ .”

Ezio nodded, and continued on his way.

He wondered if he could find a way to bring Claudia along next time. Sparring was all well and good, but nothing made things  _ fit _ like a proper fight...

0o0o0

“This place is nice,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, and tilted his head up to the sun. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “The weather and the flora are different than what I am used to, but the air is clean.”

“It’s a good place for a colony,” Aveline agreed distantly.

She eyed the armed guards around the place. The colonists here said that they were for safety against wildlife, but it still made her wary. It didn’t help that she wasn’t allowed weapons in her slave persona, and the lack made Aveline feel naked.

“Kind of reminds me of Big Brother, to be honest,” Desmond said, rubbing at his arms and watching the guards as well.

“Big Brother?” Ratonhnhaké:ton repeated.

“Oh, it’s from a book I read recently,” Desmond said. He opened his mind to share the information with Aveline and Ratonhnhaké:ton.

“Well, that’s morbid,” Aveline said, mind caught on the ending. She had heard of it before, using rats as both torture and murder devices. Still morbid. And disgusting, and kind of against everything that the Creed stood for.

“And brings up some troubling implications,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

“It might not mean anything,” Desmond sighed, “The people here are hopeful and happy, and you can’t fake that. The land is good, and they are treated well. It’s just the  _ way _ that they talk about it is… off, somehow. I can’t explain it.”

“No, I understand what you mean,” Aveline said, thinking. Why wouldn’t they like people to even think about  _ leaving _ ? Not to go back, but just to find a different home for themselves.

“There are many different types of freedom.” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. He turned to Aveline, “You need weapons. Just in case.”

“Yes,” Aveline agreed. She had seen a blacksmith while she walked around, and the guards had both knives… and belts. There were also wooden planks everywhere, since they were constantly building. “Hm. It’d be rudimentary, but I can make a hidden blade…”

0o0o0

“So,” Altair said, looking around at Elise’s room. It was currently dressed opulently, as her father set up a grandiose party as the setting. And this was only the dressing room, not where the main party was to be held. “This is where you become initiated into the Templar Order.”

Elise grinned at him, and then grimaced as Aveline tightened her dress. “Yes, and I am rather excited.”

“Bit of pomp and circumstance, all told,” Aveline said, “But I suppose as the only child of the Grandmaster, well on her way to becoming Grandmaster herself, it is well worth it.”

“Just barely worth putting on the dress,” Elise said, and stood straight. “I can barely hide my weapons in this. I’m just glad my hidden blade fits under the sleeve.”

“You do have your sword hidden under all those layers,” Altair said dryly. “And a knife in your pocket.”

“At least here, no one will find it suspicious that you are going  _ armed _ ,” Aveline said. “I am grateful that Gerard made me my parasol, it’s made things so much easier.”

“What’s Arno doing tonight?” Evie asked. “We’ve managed to hide the fact that he’s been initiated into the Assassins, but that also means he’s not supposed to know about the Templars, either.”

“Ah, he’s being distracted,” Elise said, and winced as Aveline tightened her dress again. “The Assassins know better to stage an attack here, where we are so tightly defended, and haven’t even bothered telling him to try and get in. I believe he’s taking the party tonight to also have some fun of his own.”

“Truly, I think he’d get along well with Jacob,” Evie said.

“Oh, he  _ would _ ,” Elise said, grinning at her, “It’s best that they can’t actually meet, isn’t it?”

There was a knock on the door. “Lady Elise, your father wishes to speak to you before the party gets under way.”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” Elise called back. She stepped away from Aveline, and then spread her arms out. She did a quick twirl, “So, how do I look?”

“Beautiful, of course,” Ezio said. He reached up, and tugged a curl loose from where it was pinned in place, letting it frame her face. “But you are always beautiful, yes?”

Elise grinned brightly at him, feeling her own excitement echoed back at her, and hopped lightly in place. “I am! Now, let’s go have a party!”

The call echoed through the entire group, and they followed Elise out the room.

0o0o0

Evie  _ knew _ something was off the moment Jacob stepped foot on the train. She sat up straight from where she had been reading a book Henry had lent her, and turned her attention in the direction her brother was.

“Evie?” Henry asked, frowning. He put his own paperwork down, and reached for his weapon.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Evie told him. She stood up and placed the book on a side table. “Excuse me, but my brother needs me.”

“Ah,” Henry said, and relaxed. Still, his face was taut with worry. “Yes. Do tell him that I hope he’s feeling well.”

Evie smiled at him. “Of course.” With that, she left the train car that served as an office, and searched for her brother. Not that it took long, with only one direction to go and nowhere else for Jacob to be.

Evie soon found Jacob in their shared train, where they kept all of their things and slept. He was sitting on a ratty old sofa that they had lugged onto the train during one of its many stops.

Jacob himself looked… not  _ badly _ . He looked the same as he did the last time Evie saw him several hours ago, when he went off to do Jacob things. Still, he did look  _ off _ , somehow. Not  _ wrong _ , but just enough that Evie had  _ felt _ the need to look for him.

“Jacob, love,” Evie said, and knelt in front of him. He looked to her, and his reactions were as quick and easy as ever. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jacob said immediately. Truthfully. He leaned back, sighed heavily, and ran his hands over his face. “Just- realized something, is all.”

Evie stood up again and eyed him. Normally she’d make a comment about how thinking too hard did make his brain stop working momentarily. This wasn’t the time for that.

“You want to talk about it?” Evie asked.

Jacob hesitated, but nodded. “Yeah.”

“Alright, then,” Evie said, and sat in the chair across from the sofa.

She waited patiently for Jacob to talk. For all his bluster and recklessness, he tended to take  _ feelings _ rather seriously. Even if he acted like a dense idiot, he really was rather not. But it did take him some time to actually voice everything that went on in his head.

“It’s Ned,” Jacob started, “Well, I did a thing with Roth that I’d really rather forget for things completely unrelated to what’s going on with me right  _ now _ . It’s just that Ned was the one that sort of helped me figure it out.”

The thing with Roth-  _ oh _ ,  _ that _ .

That had happened near several months ago now, hadn’t it? It couldn’t be killing the madman, Jacob got over that rather easily. But Roth- the way he  _ looked _ at Jacob, the few times Evie had seen them together… Jacob never came out and told her what happened, but Evie had an  _ idea _ . And for all that he acted troubled about it, Evie took it to mean that he was troubled about the circumstances that  _ led _ to the death rather than the incident itself.

“Yes, I noticed that you calmed down afterwards,” Evie said, just to let him know that she was listening.

Jacob nodded. “Ned helped me out there, and he was real polite about it too. Like actually polite instead of that snobby thing people in London do, when they’re insulting you but it’s hidden with all those nice words of theirs.”

Evie nodded in understanding. They grew up in a rather isolated and small town, compared to London. People were rather honest about what they felt, so the duplicity that went on in London was… an experience. Even more so than the complete size difference. And Jacob didn’t have other people in his head to help with culture shock, either.

“Ned was polite? Ned Wynert, Ned?” Evie asked wryly.

It wasn’t that Ned was  _ impolite _ . In fact, he rather had a personality that he cultivated as a businessman, and that image was unfailingly polite. He also just happened to be blunt and honest. It was probably why Jacob got along so well with him, for all that they traded barbed insults with each other.

“Yeah, kind of surprised me too,” Jacob said, laughing. “But he was. Anyway, what he helped me figure out. I sort of… well, I didn't  _ ignore _ it. I just didn’t…  _ internalize _ it, until now?”

“Ah,” Evie said in understanding.

They, as Assassins, learned many things over the course of their training. The Creed was one of them, and to become a Master they had to  _ internalize _ it, and they all tended to do so individually with different meanings for them all.

Evie hadn’t reached that yet, for all that she was a Master Assassin in skill. She was getting there, her experiences in London shaped her, and there was understanding in the Creed that she hadn’t had before.

But because of how they were raised, and trained, Assassins tended to  _ internalize _ things to a degree that most other people didn’t understand. Elise, being raised a Templar, was the one to realize that what they did wasn’t exactly common and explain it to them. And even Elise did the same with seven Assassins in her head.

“What did you learn?” Evie asked.

Jacob sat up straight and ran a hand over his eyes. Still, he looked to her and said simply, “Well, I figured that I rather like guys.”

Evie blinked, and ran the thought through her head, and, “Ah, okay,” she said, nodding.

She smiled at Jacob, who grinned back at her in sheer relief. She wasn’t offended. It was  _ scary _ to tell someone a new thing about yourself.  _ Especially _ if you trusted and loved that person.

In a way,  _ internalizing _ something that most definitely went against what society deemed culturally permissible, which in  _ itself _ was internalized due to people being raised by those standards, Jacob had just reached Master status.

Her twin was now a Master Assassin in his own right.

Evie could tell him later.

0o0o0

 


	9. I May Fall 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... here's the first part of desmond's story. title comes from "I May Fall" by Jeff Williams. please pay attention to the lyrics
> 
> here you get hints of what altair's doing, as an individual that has grown up and acts completely differently, to keep some part of the timeline intact... as well as what desmond has done while in new york
> 
> lucy and her whole thing is gonna go differently. it's what happens when you reconcile eight people's ideologies from different orders into something that pleases /all/ of them, without going against their core values.
> 
> i still wonder, what did adha do?

_ And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also is a vexation of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow… _

Stand in a familiar place, though the familiarity is distant, like someone had taken a picture of a known place and manipulated it into something it was distinctly not. There are familiar shapes of people, but they are not  _ people _ , they are faceless masses, hair long and dresses long, and they grip and grasp and enter personal space like they are trying to enter  _ into _ the personal space.

_ “We’ve got a problem…” _

Walk past, hands on shoulders, do not hurt them, they are innocent, stay the blade, but walk forward, get closer to the singular being making the speech. It is scripture, but it is warped, voice growing louder and echoing and sounding like the way a limb feels when it ‘falls asleep’ and then ‘wakes up’, gravel. The voice enters the mind like an arrow, like it will not be ignored, but it  _ has _ to be ignored.

_ “Focus. Listen to the sound of my voice…” _

Betrayal. There is betrayal in that voice. That voice is beloved and respected but it is betrayal and it has- it has- it has-

_ “We’re losing him _ …”

No, it is the mimicry of a market. Not the actual place but the memory of a memory of the place. White fog illuminates everything and it is like berserker gas and the faceless are not faceless but they are not real, their faces are contorted into rage. Rage that is not rage but mimics rage, a lie, betrayal-

_ “We need to pull him out…” _

Stay the blade from the flesh of the innocent. That is a tenant, it is a known tenant, it is something that has been internalized. But there is also panic in the heart, and then a hand is reaching out- punching. There is punching. Swarms of people, fake-rage, crowding. Punch and push them away to safe distance.

_ “All right Desmond, we’re going to try and bring you out.” _

-

Desmond gasped desperately, and threw his hands in front of him, like if he tried, he could  _ push _ those memories away. He breathed heavily, and looked wildly around, taking in his surroundings and the two people there. Desmond placed a hand on the table he was on, as well as on his stomach. And then he  _ remembered _ what had happened-

What. The. Fuck.

“Desmond!” Evie said, appearing next to him. “Oh my god, you’re  _ okay _ .”

Not a second later, all of his other selves appeared as well. They were all wild eyed and looked like a mess. Not that Desmond could blame them, if any of what he had just went through bled to them. Shit, he probably looked terrible too. He certainly  _ felt _ terrible.

“Desmond,” Altair said, and gripped Desmond’s hand tightly and desperately. His eyes were wide and a desperate, golden sheen. His hand was clammy, and Desmond could see the sweat on his brow from here. Everyone crowded Desmond too, and he leaned into their presence.

“There, see? I told you he’d be fine,” an unknown voice said. Old, distinguished, and Desmond wanted to run  _ his hidden blade through his face- _

“Calm,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. He was anything  _ but _ calm though, none of them were. But he had the best self-control of them when he wasn’t in one of his berserker moods, and Desmond grasped desperately at it.

“We planned for this,” Elise reminded him, and placed a hand on Desmond’s chest.

Yes, they did, and Desmond held tight to that plan, because he didn’t have anything else right now. He almost flew at the old man regardless, but refrained. “Bastard!” Desmond hissed.

“Now, now,” the old man said. His voice was oily and falsely kind, and Desmond kind of hated him on sheer principle. “I just saved your life.”

They all turned and just  _ stared _ at the man. Desmond couldn’t help it.  _ None _ of them could help it, because honestly, what the fuck,  _ really _ ? Did he expect Desmond to believe that? Like, at all?

Desmond sat up, struggling with the motion. He was still disorientated from whatever the fuck  _ that _ was, but he still had control. He could reach out and  _ punch the smarmy ass _ and that helped settle some discomfort. “Saved  _ my life _ ? You kidnapped me! Strapped me into that  _ thing _ !”

The old man raised an eyebrow. It was rather condescending, and  _ wow _ , Desmond’s emotions were all over the place, because all he literally wanted to do right now was punch him. Not that the old man  _ didn’t _ deserve it if he was the one in charge of having Desmond kidnapped, but usually he had more control over himself.

“Animus,” the old man said, “That is the Animus.”

_ That _ grabbed everyone’s attention. They had heard of it before, of course, and had been interested in its applications. By its name alone they figured it had to do with the subconscious, and probably involved medication of some sort. But this-

“Desmond,” Elise reminded him.

“I don’t even know you people!” Desmond said. It wasn’t hard to remain angry and slightly scared. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

The old man took several steps away. Unfortunately. “You have information that we need, Mister. Miles,” he said. Wow, talk about condescending.

“Information? I’m a  _ bartender _ , for Christ’s sake! What do you need to know, how to mix a martini?” Desmond retorted.

He shoved all feeling at his other selves because he literally could not allow his true emotions to be read. Not here and not now. Ezio made a face at him and it made Desmond feel better. Slightly.

“We know who you are,” the old man said, voice low. Huh, he could do intimidating pretty decently, for all that he was an  _ ass _ . Too bad Desmond was  _ not _ intimidated. He faced down much scarier. “ _ What _ you are.”

Well, fuck. If he meant he knew Desmond was an  _ Assassin _ -

“Shove over,” Elise said quickly, and Desmond easily relinquished his spot to her. The best lie was the absolute truth. She turned to the old man and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play coy with me. There isn’t time. You’re an Assassin. And whether you realize it or not, you’ve got something my employers want,” the old man reached up to point at Elise’s head. He was smart enough not to get  _ too _ close, though. Elise would have bitten his finger off, and it looked like the old man knew it. “Locked away in that head of yours.”

“I am not,” Elise said as firmly as she could, eyes narrowed at the old man, “an Assassin.”

The utter sincerity in the statement seemed to surprise the old man. Ha. Fuck you too, you utter  _ bastard _ . Elise absolutely was not an Assassin. Still, the old man recovered nicely. “Hm, yes, your file mentioned as much. Something about an escape.”

“Oh fuck you,” Desmond hissed. He gripped Altair’s hand tighter in an effort to keep himself calm.

Desmond  _ knew _ the Templars of this time were strong, but they didn’t know everything. They hadn’t found the Farm for one,  _ that _ Desmond would have heard about, but like hell his parents had managed to keep the search for him  _ completely _ quiet.

Desmond had actually learned about their search of him on his own, and he had much fewer resources than Abstergo. Desmond would honestly be disappointed if the Templars  _ hadn’t _ figured it out by now.

“Most fortunate for us,” the old man said. He dropped his intimidating act and went back to being self-righteous.

“What do you want from me?” Elise demanded.

“For you to do as your told,” the old man said. All eight of them growled in response. Like hell they were. “The Animus will allow us to locate what we need. Once we have it, you’ll be free to go.”

Desmond stared at the old man again. Because only the most desperate, eager-to-please people would realize that that  _ wasn’t _ going to happen. It was obvious in the way the old man spoke, and the look in his eye. Nothing good happened to people here when Abstergo was done with them.

“I am  _ not _ going back in there!” Elise said. It was part act, playing independent and rebellious, because they had to make them think of Desmond a certain way. It was also because none of them really wanted to get back. Not after what  _ just _ happened.

“Then we’ll induce a coma and continue our work,” the old man started, voice devoid of even his self-righteous attitude. It was more chilling than when he tried to be intimidating. “When we’re done, you’ll be left to die. Truth be told, the only reason you’re conscious is because this approach saves us time.”

“You’re  _ insane _ ,” Elise said, eyes wide. There was fear, too, both false and true.

Well, shit, they hadn’t planned on being put into a coma. The look in the old man’s eyes told them that he was not kidding about that. Dammit, they didn’t have any information here, so it wasn’t like they could just  _ leave _ . They had no idea what the security was like in this place. But oh, how Desmond wished to.

“So what is it, Mister. Miles? Live, or die?” the old man asked.

“How about your decapitated head on the edge of a stick?” Desmond growled. Morbid, maybe, but the threats made him feel better.

Elise said nothing in her own fury, though, and apparently the old man considered that an answer.

“Lie down,” the old man ordered.

Elise narrowed her eyes at him, and did not move.

“Fuck,” Desmond said, and rubbed his arm with his free hand. “We don’t have a choice. Not now, when we don’t have the information we need.”

“I don’t like this,” Altair said. His hand gripped Desmond’s tighter. Seriously, he looked like he had gotten the worst of the shared trauma. It was fine, though, the others would take care of him.

“None of us do,” Desmond said glumly. “Come on Elise, switch again.”

It was easy to switch, and Desmond was seated again on the Animus. He glared at the old man, and imagined shoving a knife into his gut. Assassins were supposed to give as quick and painless of deaths as they could, but oh, how he  _ imagined _ .

“Lay back,” the blonde behind him said softly, but firmly. “We’ll take care of the rest.”

So Desmond did.

-

Memories. They were an imprint as the brain hit ‘record’ on a moment in time, putting all the senses forward into it. Sounds, smells, touch, taste, sight, it was all placed in storage, held together by neural pathways, and as such could be triggered and used all together. The brain didn’t hold memories, it  _ was _ memory. Both physical and mental. It was why a good knock on the head could cause so many physical problems.

Genetic memories; the information that was held in the blood itself, in DNA, where events were recorded and held together. DNA informed how a body was constructed, and that included what was declared ‘important’ and therefore passed on or unimportant, and discarded. But they weren't discarded, were they? They were just held, dormant. They existed but they held no real importance.

Generational trauma. That was a thing. How the brain and the body developed even generations after a traumatic event happened changed. The body was good at remembering. It stored its information in pathways, and sometimes… sometimes that went bone deep. Nature versus nurture, yes, but also a mutation in the DNA that passed on.

That was an aspect, an example, of genetic memories. Instinct was another. How animals knew where to migrate, how they knew to care for their offspring, how they could tell whether one thing was bad or not. Why some dogs were good at herding, while others loved water. Genetic memory, instinct, was how those animals  _ knew _ what to do without any prior experience. It was encoded into their DNA.

The Animus was meant to decode those memories.

-

_ Altair, Malik, and Kadar stalked through the tunnel. It was narrow, and was freshly created, and it smelled like it. Ahead of them stood a miner, unaware of their presence. _

_ “What,” Altair murmured quietly to Kadar, “do you think we should do?” _

_ Kadar was a mid-rank journeyman, and this mission was also an evaluation. Depending on how he did, and how Altair and Malik reported it, Kadar would gain a new rank. He did not know, for all that Altair and Malik never kept secrets from him. The fact that it was the two of them would hide its true purpose. _

_ “He cannot see us,” Kadar said, frowning. “But we can’t kill him, can we?” _

_ “Oh, we  _ can _ ,” Altair said, and twitched his hand at Malik when he frowned at him. “There is no question of the possibility.” It’d be ridiculously easy. _

_ Kadar paused, and then shook his head lightly. “No. We  _ cannot _ kill him. He is innocent. But we still can’t let him see us. Could we knock him unconscious instead? This is a new tunnel, maybe a rock could have hit him in the head?” _

_ “Yes,” Altair said, pleased with the answer. He turned, and studied the tunnel, focusing his vision until the colored smoke bled into his vision. _

_ The miner still didn’t register their presence. Altair prowled forward, picked up a decent size rock from the tunnel floor, and quickly and easily hit the miner on the head. He grabbed the miner before he fell, and laid him on the ground. _

_ “Nicely done!” Kadar said. _

_ Altair clicked his tongue in gentle reprimand, matching Malik’s frown of disapproval. Altair motioned for Kadar to come closer. “Here, look at what I do. Head injuries can cause complicated problems in the future, so this is how you check for a concussion…” _

-

That night, as Desmond was left alone in his prison-cell, they all stared at the symbols that had been painted on the walls, a match to the symbols and words on the floor in the other room. They glowed red under their second sight, but the edges of them were the golden-white of  _ importance _ and  _ information _ .

Desmond rubbed his eyes, exhausted. “We can… write that down later.”

“Get into bed, Desmond,” Elise said, just as tired as he was. They all had an  _ incredibly _ long day. “We’re all going to sleep together tonight.”

“Okay,” Desmond said, which was echoed through them all. He climbed into bed. He didn’t bother taking his shoes off.

It barely took a thought before Desmond was in Elise’s bed, the others all following quickly after. Desmond grabbed Altair, and wrapped him in a hug. The two of them had born the brunt of what the Animus did. The others all curled up around them, putting them in the middle of a cuddle pile.

Desmond breathed slowly, and Altair matched him. Their foreheads pressed together, and he savored the physical contact, and the slow, lazy,  _ warm _ contact loop that followed. They were the same heart, the same soul, and the same  _ being _ . But they were different  _ people _ , with different likes, and dislikes, and how they viewed the world differed. Desmond was Desmond. Altair was Altair. All the way through the eight of them.

The Animus was not what they thought. It was a thought that whispered through all of their minds an indeterminate time later, and Desmond sighed. Seemed that it was time to talk about what happened.

“So, Abstergo has me,” Desmond said. “That, we planned for. We left instructions behind for when this happened.”

“Your captains know what to do,” Altair agreed softly. “They are trained well, and will already know that you have been taken.”

“We also unfortunately know what the Animus is, now,” Desmond said, and closed his eyes.

Most of his exhaustion was that incredibly low synch rate that Vidic complained about the entire time Desmond was in the Animus. It was barely enough to keep moving forward, which was the reason why Desmond was even allowed out at the moment. And, after getting tired of being kicked from the memories several times, Desmond even  _ tried _ to synch.

Except, synching with Altair meant  _ sharing _ with  _ Altair _ , and that… drew Altair in. And the Animus was meant to only hold one person, apparently, so that caused even  _ more _ problems. And with Desmond and Altair trying and failing at something, and  _ needing _ it to work, it drew the others in as well, as they instinctively tried to help them both.

The entire day was a fucking mess, honestly. Desmond felt like his brain was leaking out of his ears.

It didn’t help that Desmond was recalling memories that they had  _ already been through _ . That Altair had lived the exact scenario just a couple of months ago.

“They want the Apple of Eden,” Desmond said.

“Not the Apple itself, I don’t think. Or not  _ just _ the Apple, not when they were trying to get you to an entirely different memory,” Evie corrected. “There’s something about it that they want.”

“Knowledge,” Altair said, “the Apple has information, and it tempts whoever wields it. It’s why we are working against Al Mualim right now.”

“Illusions,” Elise said thoughtfully, “the Apple has the power of illusions, even if Templars and Assassins fight over its mind control aspect. So it’s going to  _ show _ something, and you’ll see it, and  _ that’s _ what they want.”

“Well, I always wanted to know my future,” Altair said dryly.

“I don’t think it’ll be your future,” Desmond said quietly. He felt their attention return to him. He gathered his thoughts to explain  _ why _ he thought that. “It’s September, right now. And Altair first came in contact with the Apple in July. Altair and the others are planning to throw a coup,  _ now _ , and with what we saw when they threw me in the Animus  _ before _ …”

“Congratulations,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said flatly as they registered his train of thought. “You will be reliving the experience in the Animus the same time Altair lives through it.”

Desmond and Altair looked at each other, and then groaned. “Why does the universe hate us?”

“At least we know that you’re  _ related _ now,” Ezio pointed out, “Which does explain a  _ little bit _ why you look the same.”

“Oh yeah,” Desmond said, “I’m descended from you. Is that weird?”

Aveline giggled quietly, and they turned their attention to her, curious. “Altair gets  _ married _ ,” she managed to say.

There was a pause as they all realized what exactly that meant.

“Shut up,” Altair said, and that set them all off.

They all started laughing, and Desmond pressed closer to Altair, glad for the respite. They needed that, he realized. It was a break in the tension that they all felt. Desmond was also exhausted enough that it probably was a lot funnier than it would be otherwise.

After several minutes of giggling; which was longer than it normally would be, because of the echo and compounded nature of it, Desmond sighed again. It was easy to grab Altair’s hand again, and squeeze.

“So, Lucy Stillman,” Desmond said when it was quiet enough that they could talk about it.

Because Abstergo wasn’t filled with idiots. The conference room was on the other side of the bedroom and bathroom wall, and with such an obvious vent placement, they practically  _ invited _ people to listen in. Desmond did, of course, if only to hear what they wanted him to hear. And what he heard was the implication that Lucy was a prisoner as well.

“Templar agent, definitely,” Elise said promptly. “Likely given the task to get your trust, with the non-threatening and almost helpless look to her, and allowing us to overhear the argument that she had with Vidic.”

“There was truth in that conversation, if only to make it easy to trust her,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

“Not an enemy,” Aveline said, “But not an ally, either. She doesn’t  _ want _ to hurt you.”

“Want doesn’t mean  _ won’t _ ,” Evie pointed out, “It seems she’s in flux, though I don’t know why I feel that way.”

“She’s tied into why all that blood was used to paint the walls and floors,” Altair said slowly, feeling that thought out. “There is a message in those symbols, and her guilt is near palpable when she goes near them.”

“She has Assassin training,” Elise said thoughtfully, “She moves too well to  _ just _ be trained to fight. I know the difference, after all these years.”

“Turncoat?” Desmond asked, “She must have been sent undercover at one point. But to get to the clearance level she’s at right now-”

“She must have been alone for  _ years _ ,” Ezio said grimly. “It’s not like she would have been given a handler or a touchstone.”

Desmond bit his lip. “If we consider ourselves independent to the Assassin Order, then-”

“Lucy Stillman is  _ not _ an enemy, if not an ally, either,” Elise said, “In fact, if we can get her to be  _ our _ ally, who are not affiliated with the Order that abandoned her for the years she has been here…”

“What Abstergo does is  _ wrong _ ,” Jun said, “I imagine that whatever guilt she feels, she might be willing to leave.”

“It helps that we won’t make her choose one or the other,” Altair said, “Not with Elise here.”

“It would be nice to have another Templar around,” Elise said, smiling amusedly. “Even if we’re kind of heretics to both our Orders.”

“Though we are kind of assuming that she  _ was _ an Assassin,” Evie pointed out, “I’d like to believe it, but we don’t  _ know _ that yet.”

“She doesn’t want to hurt us,” Aveline repeated, “We can  _ use _ that.”

“There’s also the symbols and the words,” Jun said, “That was definitely Chinese on the wall.”

Desmond sighed. “Okay. We can start with recording everything that was left behind. If it was someone that was brought here before me, then it’s likely they died to leave that message. That much blood doesn’t come from nowhere.”

“I can do that, and start researching everything that I can.” Evie said, “I have the most access to information after you.”

“Then we work on Lucy,” Desmond said, “Normally I’d feel bad about heavy manipulation like this, but considering she’s to do the same for  _ us _ I really don’t care.”

“We’ll also have to figure out a way to make using the Animus easier,” Altair said.

Desmond made a face at him, but nodded. “Right, we’ll have to experiment with it tomorrow, since we can’t exactly use it on our own.”

“We need to keep you away, somehow,” Ezio said, and poked Altair in the shoulder, “You have a coup to prepare for, and we already spent the day here. You need your rest, and working in the Animus is definitely  _ not _ restful.”

“We all need some rest,” Evie said, “Especially Desmond, since he’s to go back into the Animus tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Desmond said.

He curled up closer to Altair. It was easy for them all to do the same, getting more comfortable in bed. With his other selves all there, all curled up and content and  _ together _ , Desmond closed his eyes and fell asleep.

-

_ i did not fight for people to bow to me _

0o0o0

  
  



	10. I May Fall 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we go, with part 2 of desmond's story.
> 
> i rather imagine it's gonna be a different important altair memory per sequence... as well as everything else that they are planning. so far it's been 1 chap=1 day, but we'll start going faster and faster... and then altair and desmond get to see what the apple wants to show them, which will definitely be... an experience
> 
> also, hi henry! i love you, and so does evie.
> 
> and mentions of who desmond knows in new york. they're either OCs or expies of other characters from other series, but i dunno when we'll properly meet them, if we ever will. got to get to the end of the world first
> 
> desmond and the others are trying to get lucy on their side, but she will definitely throw them some curveballs in the meantime lol. gotta meet rebecca and shaun after all

Desmond woke up early the next morning rested. Any time they all slept together and set off a cozy contact loop was generally the best medicine they could ask for. Which, considering where Desmond found himself, was the best thing he could be doing right now.

He took a quick shower to get rid of the sweat, and put on his old clothes; he’d have to ask if they could at least provide spares, if only to spare  _ them _ from smelling him. At the very least, the shower was hot, and the soap and shampoo decent, if not the best quality. It was all generic but nothing here was strictly  _ uncomfortable _ . It was likely a way to keep their subjects as compliant as possible.

“Right,” Desmond said, climbing back into bed and staring up at the ceiling.

No need for his wardens to know that they were studying the wall. The cameras were well hidden, but they glowed red under Eagle Vision, and Jun had said that their area of effect was literally the  _ entire _ room.

Anyways, with the door locked, he was stuck in the room. He could do his morning stretches, but until Desmond figured out how to deal with Lucy, and what they expected of him, it would do no good to give any true hint of his abilities and skill set. Though he could probably get his jog in later. Maybe he could even annoy Vidic in the process.

Evie and Jun appeared. Evie had a clipboard and a pen in her hand, ready to write everything down. Jun was there to provide translation; sharing language was  _ easy _ after spending more than two-thirds of their lives together, but it was always the easiest when the person who grew up speaking and reading the language did the translation.

“Good morning,” Evie said cheerfully. She already started sketching the symbols themselves, and writing down everything that wasn’t in Chinese.

“Good morning,” Jun repeated.

Shifting, and leaving his body in the bed, Desmond stood next to them. “Morning. Ready for this? I don’t know when they’re going to come and grab me.”

Evie glanced at her clipboard and the wall. “Hm. Yes, I’ve got everything but the words themselves. Already have a few ideas with some of them, too. Jun, you good?”

Jun nodded, and turned to the wall. She made a face at the reference to Emperor Jiajing, but spoke regardless.

_ “Hearing is better than not hearing, observing is better than hearing, knowing is better than observing, and doing is better than knowing.” _

_ “You reap what you sow.” _

_ “One who wants to read into his future simply needs to write his own present.” _

_ “A man without far considerations, must have near worries.” _

_ “As a human being, if you want to know the spiritual realm of Buddha, you have to observe, you have to know that everything you see in the world comes from your own mind.” _

_ “One who does not forget what was before is the master of what comes after.” _

“Well, that is a lot of heavy words,” Desmond said, frowning thoughtfully at it all. 

“I have everything,” Evie said, finishing with a flourish. “At least the shorthand. I’ll write everything out with a cleaner touch later.”

“I’ve entered the Abyss and never returned,” Desmond read. The words had that golden glow of importance, which matched the bloody handprints. “That’s from the one before.”

“They learned something through the Animus,” Evie said thoughtfully, “And it was important enough to them that they risked actually writing all of this down. They likely didn’t have that much time, between injuring themself to  _ get _ the blood to bleeding out. Not with them being watched constantly.”

Desmond glanced around the room again. Everything was bolted to the floor, or too heavy to move regardless. It was impersonal with smooth edges everywhere, and the vents were very firmly screwed in place. The mirror in the bathroom was metal instead of glass, and placed  _ into _ the wall instead of on top of it. Even the screwheads were sanded down to provide as little chance of hurting himself with them.

“This is a room you give a suicidal person,” Desmond said. “It probably wasn’t so barren or carefully made before.”

Jun frowned and folded her arms. “So they expect you to go the same way, eventually.”

“I don’t know, but they’re at least prepared for it,” Desmond said. “That’s more information than we had just last night.”

Evie looked to her clipboard again. “These are- I recognize some of it. There’s a reference to a bible verse, if I’m not mistaken.”

“The symbols outside will likely be important, too,” Desmond said.

“They’ll have to feed you before you head into the Animus, if only to keep you stable,” Evie said, “I’ll put it all down then.”

“Right,” Desmond nodded.

Whatever else he could have said was interrupted when the door  _ beeped _ gently. It opened with a gentle  _ swoosh _ , and Warren Vidic stood there in all his lab-coat, old man, self-righteous glory. He made this  _ glorious _ face when he saw that Desmond was already awake.

Desmond returned to his actual position on the bed, and sat up. “Morning, Doc.”

“Get up, Mister Miles,” Vidic said, annoyed. Evie grinned in triumph next to Desmond. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. More, considering your failures yesterday.”

Desmond scowled at him. So that's how they were going to play it, huh? Vidic to be the nasty, over controlling warden and Lucy to be the sympathetic half-prisoner. They really were trying to get him to be as compliant as possible, weren’t they? Well, lucky for Vidic, Desmond hated him plenty enough without the help.

He climbed out of bed, stretched until his spine popped, and followed after Vidic. Ah, at least there was a tray of food ready for him. It was cereal, yogurt, a couple pieces of toast, and some plastic cups of juice and water. Nothing bad. Actually, it might be something Desmond would eat when he woke up and was running late.

Evie nodded to him as she went around the room, making sketches of all the symbols that were painted on the floor.

“I wonder who I get to not kill today?” Desmond asked, eyeing the plastic spoon and wondering if it’d be worth the effort to start making even rudimentary weapons. Hm. Not yet, he needed to work on getting Vidic complacent.

Vidic made a face at him, and Desmond smirked.  _ Ha _ .

Apparently, he had been expecting Altair to be a trigger-happy murderous fiend who went around killing everyone in sight. So, when the Animus revealed that Altair was most decidedly  _ not _ someone who killed randomly, some presumptions had to be knocked down. Sure, Altair still killed people in the memories they had seen. But they were all done in very clear self-defense, and in the defense of others. Mostly, Altair just knocked them unconscious in a fight. Which was actually harder to do safely, but Desmond didn’t feel like explaining that.

“Don’t be so cavalier,” Vidic snapped. Desmond raised an eyebrow. Vidic sighed disappointedly at him, and said, “You know, Mister Miles. Your ancestors  _ almost _ had the right idea.”

“Almost?” Desmond asked curiously. He wondered where Vidic was going with this.

“They didn’t go far enough,” Vidic said simply. “It’s rather like cancer, really, and Assassins treated the symptoms instead of the cause. There is no true change without comprehensive and systematic intervention.”

“Well, we can add God complex to his rather extensive list of faults,” Evie said dryly.

“And how would that happen?” Desmond asked. It sounded like Vidic was advocating mass murder. He wouldn’t put it past this man.

“Education. Or, re-education in this matter. But it’s not easy and it doesn’t always take,” Vidic said. He sounded so  _ disappointed _ about it too.

“So, brainwashing instead of mass murder,” Jun said, and made a disgusted face.

“Well, at least we know he wants the Apple,” Evie said, “Not that we didn’t already know that.”

Desmond rolled his eyes and said as sarcastically as he could, “Let me guess. You have a _better_ _solution_. What is it then?”

Vidic chuckled lowly, amused that Desmond even bothered to ask. “Now that would be telling.”

Desmond frowned at him, and then rolled his eyes. He ate his breakfast slowly, and kept an eye on Evie, who was still sketching. He really wasn’t looking forward to getting into the Animus.

“Hurry up, Mister Miles,” Vidic said, “We don’t have all day.”

“What an asshole,” Jun said, miming cutting a throat.

“I’m good, Desmond,” Evie said, finishing her current sketch. “I have everything. I’ll start looking into what they mean.”

Desmond looked Vidic in the eye, and took a bite out of his last piece of toast. Still, he didn’t push further, and finished eating. He wiped his hands on a napkin and then threw everything that could be thrown away.

“If you’re done eating, let’s get started,” Lucy said, smiling sympathetically at him.

“Fine, fine,” Desmond said, sighing as theatrically as he could. Very slowly and reluctantly, he got back onto the Animus.

There was a slight shift in the air as Altair appeared. He gripped Desmond’s hand, and eyed the Animus and Vidic distastefully. “Right,  _ this _ again,” he said. He sat on the Animus next to Desmond. “Might as well figure this out. We have a week before I need to move.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Desmond said privately.

And with that, Desmond felt something poke the back of his head, and he  _ faded- _

-

_ Malik woke slowly, but at least he woke up. And if anything told Altair how injured Malik was, it was that he woke like a child, blinking sleep from his eyes. _

_ “Malik,” Altair said, and pressed closer. _

_ Altair carefully kept from touching Malik until he knew how Malik felt. Across the other side of the sleeping cot, Elise kept watch over them all. On the other side of the room, Desmond sat at Kadar’s bed. And spread out around the room, appearing as they realized Malik was waking, the others came. _

_ “Mmf?” Malik groaned, eyes unfocused. He turned his head and looked to Altair. _

_ “It is good to see you awake, Brother,” Altair said, relieved. He recognized that look; if Malik felt well enough to be irritated at him, then there was little to worry about. _

_ “Kadar?” Malik asked, voice hoarse. _

_ “He sleeps still,” Altair assured him. “He is doing well. You should rest more.” _

_ Malik glared at him, irritated that Altair presumed to give him an order. Altair smiled, glad to see that Malik still had his spirit. That was good, and would help him heal. Still, Malik closed his eyes and fell asleep, trusting Altair to guard him. _

_ “Al Mualim has been keeping secrets,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said grimly as they watched Malik settle into a deep sleep. “Robert de Sable has set his sights of Masyaf as a threat. The personal kind, in which one knows  _ exactly _ what he is up against.” _

_ “And he wants the Apple,” Elise said. _

_ Altair glanced to where he had hidden it. It was in a small cloth bag to hide it from sight, and then placed in a carrying pouch. He placed it in a locked chest where they kept valuables. If anyone went snooping, they would see and take the money before digging any deeper. Hopefully. _

_ They were in Jerusalem, where Altair had taken his apprenticeship, and it was with the Rafiq’s help that both Malik and Kadar were tended to. The Jerusalem Bureau was the most well hidden of all of them in the Holy Land, and it offered them protection they wouldn’t have had otherwise. They needed it, especially after that disastrous mission in Solomon’s Temple. _

_ “The Apple is virtually unknown to the Brotherhood as it stands now,” Altair said, “At least, not outside of some rather obscure texts. Al Mualim may have read about the Apple.” _

_ It went unsaid that that didn’t explain  _ why _ Robert de Sable knew of Masyaf, and what they did, so intimately. Masyaf was a small city-state that stood independent of all of the others in the Holy Land. Yes, they were known as Assassins, but  _ what _ they did wasn’t well spread beyond their walls. _

_ Robert de Sable, as the Grandmaster to the Templars in King Richard’s army would likely know  _ of _ them. But not as well as he acted. There had to be an information leak somewhere, for this Templar to know of Assassins as more than just the name implied. _

_ “I will bring the Apple to Al Mualim,” Altair said. “We know what it is, and what it does. If we see him doing anything with it, then we will act.” _

_ “Innocent until proven guilty,” Desmond said. _

_ “Yes,” Altair agreed. “We can leave Malik and Kadar here until they are well enough to travel. But I will not leave until they are both awake.” _

_ - _

Desmond blinked, and found himself staring through the visor of the Animus. His back was warm from where it pressed against the table.

“Much better than yesterday, Mister Miles,” Vidic said approvingly.

“We had some troubles in the beginning, but it seemed they smoothed out,” Lucy said, smiling at Desmond from her screen. “You’re doing much better with synchronizing, Desmond.”

With that, the visor itself moved back, and Desmond sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Altair appeared next to him, and they pressed their shoulders together. As they did, the others all appeared one by one. They all were tired, still, but they were not exhausted like they were yesterday.

“We’ve figured out a way to keep it going,” Altair said tiredly. Like Desmond, he still felt the worst of the aftereffects of their introduction to the Animus yesterday. “It’s tiring, and I won’t be able to do it for the rest of the week since I’m busy. But you can all do it.”

“That’s good,” Evie said. “We can take shifts.”

“How are you feeling, Desmond?” Lucy asked. She had stepped away for a moment to grab lunch.

Desmond took it gratefully, feeling starved. A large sandwich, some chips, and juice. Food easy to eat, but somewhat filling. “Tired, but much better than yesterday,” he told her. “I think I found a way that can keep me from being shoved out of the memory every half hour.”

“That’s good,” Lucy said, smiling sympathetically. “I know it can be difficult, doing this.”

“Yeah,” Desmond said. He shivered lightly, and looked to the server banks on the side of the room. The air conditioning kept the room frigid, if only so that the servers didn’t overheat. He looked at Lucy, who still wore her blouse, pencil skirt, and heels. “How are you not freezing?”

“Practice,” Lucy said, “And I am not standing still when you’re under. It’s not so bad, if you’re moving.”

“Speaking of moving,” Desmond said, “You think you can let me out of my room earlier? I want to keep jogging every morning if possible.”

Lucy hesitated, and then looked to Vidic. He was at his desk, doing who knows what. Desmond would like to believe that he wasn’t paying attention to them, but that was incredibly unlikely at this point. Even if Vidic was underestimating him.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lucy said.

“Since I’m asking for stuff, might as well ask if you can get me some clean clothes,” Desmond added. “I promise, I’m not asking just for  _ my _ comfort here. You don’t want to learn what I smell like after a few days. Showers don’t keep my clothes clean.”

Lucy smiled amusedly. “I’ll try my best, for my own sake.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said. He focused on his sandwich, and thought.

There were rather large windows all along the back three walls. That meant it was above ground. And in a room built like this, it had to be an office space, and office meant city. And if not city, then someplace populated enough to justify building something that needed windows that large. If he could look outside, he could find out where he was.

He knew he wasn’t in New York City because there weren’t any skyscrapers visible past the window like they would be otherwise. There were buildings, yes, but nothing that reminded him of the city he had spent the last seven years in.

Lucy looked like she wanted to ask something. Desmond turned to her, and raised an eyebrow in question. “Are you really an Assassin? Like Altair?” Lucy asked.

Desmond blinked at her. Elise appeared, frowning and ready to take his spot, but Desmond shook his head. “Um, no, not really. I’m sure my parents wanted me to be, though.”

It was already proven that the Templars manipulated history. Assassins did the same, if not for the same reasons. What records they had of Altair started when he became Mentor, and it was done in a clinical and rather impersonal manner.

Altair had adjusted the hidden blade so that the ring finger wasn’t required to be cut off. He introduced several new techniques that were still in use today. He made it so that women could become hooded Assassins, instead of limited to the gardens and the Sisters, like they had been.

It was all things they planned, of course. Desmond didn’t think too hard about the cyclical nature of time travel. Altair learned the techniques with all seven of them, who in turned learned those techniques from the records Altair left behind. Altair learned of the new ways to create their hidden blades from the ones the seven of them had access to.

Lucy looked interested. “How so?”

Desmond grimaced, and finished the last bite of his sandwich as he thought. Oh, this absolutely was  _ not _ a conversation he wanted to have. Right now, or possibly even ever. Desmond left the Farm for a reason, and he never regretted it. Sure, there were times he missed it, or missed his age mates. But he had come too far, and done too much to ever  _ want _ to go back.

Maybe he could visit, one day, when he was assured that he wouldn’t be forced to stay. If only to see what he had forgotten or what he misinterpreted from when he was still a teenager. It had been nearly ten years since Desmond left, and there were things he had learned in his time away.

Still, he needed Lucy on his side, and sharing  _ some _ secrets was the way to go. “My parents wanted me to become one, but I ran away from the Farm when I was sixteen,” Desmond said. He looked off to the side, where Elise was waiting. Depending on how this went, she’d switch with him.

“Farm?” Lucy repeated.

“It’s what the place I grew up in was called,” Desmond said, shrugging. “Kind of like Masyaf, actually, if a lot smaller and less impressive architecturally. A small community, living off the grid. Not that we were an  _ actual _ farm, mind you.”

Both truth and lie. They weren’t an actual farm, and didn't tend to farmlands. They had barns and other similar buildings, and they did have gardens where they planted food. But it was all small stuff, meant to implement a diet that they got from store bought food. And the smaller, guarded plots that were used to teach the children and novices what and what wasn’t edible in the wilds.

There was even more heavily guarded gardens where the poisonous plants grew, but  _ that _ one really was a secret that Desmond shouldn’t have known about.

“But why?” Lucy asked, brow furrowed.

“Why what? That we were there at all?” Desmond asked. Lucy nodded slightly. “My father, I guess. He was always going on about our enemies, and the dangers that existed beyond the Farm. I didn’t question it until I was older, and I saw that nothing ever happened. All the warnings and the potential threats… no one came.”

Because they made it that way, and Assassins with a home territory were intense about it. They likely moved locations, too, after Desmond left. He’d be surprised if they didn’t with a potential leak out there, and the aftermath of the Purge still heavy within everyone’s thoughts.

“Then why did you run away?” Lucy asked.

Desmond snorted, and looked off to the side where Elise was standing. She smiled amusedly at him. He turned back to Lucy. She’d never, ever believe the truth, even if he  _ told _ her, no lying or misleading statements about it. But…

“I could never leave. Do you know what it’s like to know that you’re trapped like that? That there was an entire  _ world _ out there that I wouldn’t be able to see?” Desmond asked, spreading his hands wide in an effort to show what he meant.

“Don’t you miss your parents?” Lucy asked after a pause.

“No,” Desmond said simply. Elise placed a hand on his shoulder, and he felt the comfort of his other selves radiating to him. No, he didn’t miss Ines and William Miles because he had  _ many _ parental figures, who knew about him and his other selves. “Far as I was concerned, they weren’t my parents. They were more like wardens, and the Farm was the prison they ran.”

Lucy glanced off to the side, expression changing slightly in an unfamiliar way. “It sounded like they only wanted to protect you.”

“If she was an Assassin given an undercover mission, then she would have been in contact with your father,” Elise said softly.

Desmond grimaced lightly. Yeah, his father was the one left in charge after the Great Purge, wasn’t he? Not that Desmond was supposed to know about the extent of the Purge either. But Lucy wasn’t wrong. His parents absolutely wanted to protect him. Didn’t excuse everything that they had done, and did, to children, but Desmond  _ understood _ why they did it all. Especially after the last Mentor had died, and everything that happened immediately after.

“Well, all that’s happened,” Desmond started, looking off to the side for a moment. “I guess I should have paid more attention.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up the past,” Lucy said softly.

Ah, there it was. Desmond looked at her with his second sight, and saw her color change. She had changed her thoughts about him. There was still more red than blue, but at least her blue was clearer. It was a start, at least. He’d have to get Altair to look at her properly- he still had the clearest and most nuanced second sight of the seven of them.

“It’s fine,” Desmond promised, “It gives me something to think about.”

Lucy nodded. “Well, if you’re done with lunch, we’re going to have to continue.”

“Can I at least stretch my legs a bit?” Desmond said.

Lucy glanced to side, where Vidic was. “You can have a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said, and hopped off the Animus. He stretched his arms above his head and sighed as his spine popped. He set to doing several circuits around the Animus, and sent his mind along the path to where Evie was, bringing Elise with him.

Everyone was already there, watching Evie as she looked over her notes with Henry. “Hello, Desmond,” she said.

“Ah, hello Desmond,” Henry greeted, looking up in his general vicinity. “Evie has told me what you have been up to. I hope you are feeling well.”

Desmond switched with Evie. “I’m doing well, thank you Henry,” he said, smiling. “Tired and wanting to leave, but we still need information.”

“Evie has given me her notes about what was written in that place,” Henry said. “It’s actually quite interesting, what I’ve been able to find so far.”

“I’d love to hear it, but unfortunately I’ve only got a few minutes here,” Desmond said. “I’ll ask Evie later, yeah?”

“Good luck, Desmond,” Henry said.

“Thanks,” Desmond said, and switched again with Evie. He turned to Altair. “Can you tell the others what we figured out?”

Altair nodded. “I can. I’m traveling for now, so I can help with the Animus for today, at least, and then explain tonight, when you’re done for the day.”

“Right, that’s good,” Desmond said. He shifted again, and brought the group to where he was instead. Vidic was watching him with narrowed, annoyed eyes. He refrained from flipping him off, no matter that he felt like it. “I’ve got to get back in soon. Why don’t we look outside, first?”

There were a lot of windows, actually, and they were rather large. That meant this was a well off building, because windows this large were expensive to put in. Not that Abstergo was hurting for cash, really. Templars tended to group themselves with money, or made money themselves.

Ezio, being a noble, was actually an exception for Assassins.

Ezio hissed as he looked past the windows and to the street below. “The buildings surrounding this place are too tall for me to properly tell in which city we are, but this is definitely Italy.”

“Well, fuck,” Desmond said.

That explained why he had been unconscious for nearly an entire day before he woke up in the Animus. And why the others were all as worried as they were; even when they were hurt and recovering, they at least had  _ awareness _ of the other. Being drugged was one of the few ways that they couldn’t reach each other.

“This just got more complicated,” Desmond said, “Hopefully Ami was able to follow my trail, even if they killed all of her bugs on me.”

“I’d be more surprised if she didn’t,” Elise said.

“It closes options but provides other options as well,” Ezio said, looking thoughtful. “Depending on where we are, I can leave bolt holes and equipment for you. There is much that can last the ages, and will be left alone otherwise.”

“That leaves a lot on you,” Desmond said, and rubbed his arm. “Either way, I know how to act in Italy. The language has changed, but  _ Nonna _ has taught me enough.”

“We’ve got something, at least,” Aveline said. “We can plan a bit better now that we know where we are.”

“Mister Miles, if you’re done enjoying the scenery, I would appreciate if you went back to work,” Vidic called.

Desmond frowned at him, but went back to the Animus. Lucy was standing at her monitor, and smiled at him. “Are you ready, Desmond?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Desmond replied, and got back in. “Which is to say, absolutely not.”

0o0o0

  
  



	11. I May Fall 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's part 3 of desmond's story. we learn some more about what altair and the others have planned, and they also learn about the bleeding effect.
> 
> i looked through the wikia for the symbols meanings and tried to make it realistic in what they, as a group, would know considering when and where they are. unfortunately, even though they get the templar's whole 'let's control the world' plan, no one really expects the literal end of the world and that some of the Isu still exist lol
> 
> ps: we know nothing about desmond's mother in canon, so this is where i took it: her name is ines, she's hispanic, and raised her son bilingual just like she was. it's also a big old hint as to how he stayed under the radar for so long.

That night, Desmond and Altair were in his prison room bed, their sides pressed together. It was another tiring day of using the Animus. So much of their connection with each other was done through their minds that reliving the memories was a special kind of exhausting.

It didn’t help that there was a completely unethical breach of privacy, with Lucy and Vidic watching. Desmond felt bad enough, and he had been there in reality for the most part.

“How are you feeling?” Evie asked, pressing a cool hand on Desmond’s forehead.

The others all started to appear as well, it being nighttime for them as well. Once again, Desmond chose to ignore the time travel aspect; even if they were all in the same time periods, they were spread out far enough that they should all be in different time zones.

“Better,” Desmond replied, leaning into her touch, “We’re both tired, but not exhausted.”

“I’ll have to show you what I do,” Altair said, “It’s complex, but not hard, I don’t think. The worst of it is keeping separate enough from Desmond that the Animus can’t get a grasp on our presence like it did before.”

“That’s good,” Aveline said. She climbed into bed and sat with her legs crossed next to Altair, running a hand through his short curls. “We can work out a shift, so that you can focus.”

“I can do tomorrow,” Jun offered. “I need to lay low for the moment.”

“Right, Jun has tomorrow. We’ll figure out who goes after her later, since our schedules tend to be fluid anyways,” Elise said.

Desmond settled further into bed, enjoying their closeness.

At least until a headache hit, and he pressed his eyes closed, his eyelids glowing red under the fluorescent lighting. He grimaced.

“Desmond?” Altair asked, turning to him.

“No, I’m fine,” Desmond said. He blinked rapidly, trying to will his tears away. “Just a sudden headache. It’s passed already.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the Animus caused it,” Elise said, frowning. “You should ask Lucy about potential side effects.”

“Other than bone crushing exhaustion?” Desmond asked tiredly.

“I suppose we should ask about potential confusion between selves,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said thoughtfully, “I doubt the previous subjects they had were used to sharing their minds with other people.”

There was an awkward pause as they all realized that.

“We all forgot, didn’t we?” Desmond asked wryly.

“...Maybe,” Ezio said.

“Okay, that’s something we can ask Lucy later,” Elise said, “Putting that aside. Do we want to go over what we learned while you two were in the Animus?”

“Might as well,” Altair said. “Since Desmond is locked in this room, he literally has nothing better to do right now.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said flatly.

With that, it was easy to follow Evie back to her office on the train. It was a rather messy space, all told, with papers scattered everywhere, all weighed down with paper weights.

“We spent the day looking into what all of these might mean,” Evie said, walking to her desk where a stack was placed to the side. “Henry was lovely enough to consolidate everything as I dictated it to him.”

“It’s not complete,” Elise added, “We only had the one day, after all. But it’s a start, and we can do more research later.”

“That’s fine,” Desmond said, leaning over the desk.

“First of all, it’s  _ terrible _ that you’re stuck here,” Evie said, poking Desmond gently in the forehead, “We’re so used to you having access to the internet and its research capabilities that we grew a  _ little _ complacent.”

“I’m sorry that I got kidnapped,” Desmond said dryly.

“It’s okay,” Elise said, tone implying exactly the opposite. Still, she smiled amusedly. “It’s just that there are several symbols and phrases that we had to set aside to be looked into later.”

“Something for me to do when I get out, then,” Desmond said. “But which ones are those?”

“Well, there’s a barcode, for one,” Evie said, and pulled out the paper with it. “A couple of others are what look like mathematical theorems, if we had to guess. One is a symbol of a mountain valley, which has  _ no _ context whatsoever attached to it. Another is a string of numbers, which reminds me of the Dewey decimal system, so it’s likely an organizational system of  _ some _ sort, even if we have no idea which kind. There are some Nazca lines, which we know  _ what _ they are, just not what they mean symbolically. Next we have Yonaguni, what must be Mount Fuji, some  _ torii _ , and some pagodas, all referencing Japan. The last isn’t so much unknown as much as we simply don’t have the proper context to understand what it implies. The one about the Answers.”

“Other than the fact that Emperor Jiajing’s sins are too numerous to count,” Jun said flatly.

“Well, yes, other than that,” Elise said. “But even with the ones that we don’t know, or couldn’t figure out, the rest of the symbols and words are somewhat enlightening.”

“So, what do you have?” Desmond asked.

“That Abstergo wants to rule the world and brainwash people, likely with the Apple, but we already knew that,” Ezio said.

“Well, yes. But we meant specifically,” Altair said.

“Well, starting in the room with the Animus,” Evie said, and pulled several sheets from the main pile. “First if the Eye of Providence. This particular version is used in Christianity, where the emphasis is placed on the triangle in reference to the holy trinity.”

“Divine providence,” Evie said, “Which ties into the Animus. One could imagine that watching people’s lives as intimately as the Animus lets you would be a version of it.”

“Considering it was placed at the head of the Animus, the reference is clear,” Aveline said.

Evie nodded, “Next, we’ve got the Pentagram, with it pointing to the Animus. Easy enough, it implies that the Animus is being used for evil purposes. Most common version is used in Satanic rituals, though that’s more recent comparatively to all of our timelines.”

“It’s also a reference to Venus,” Altair said. He blinked as they turned to him. “If you observe the path that Venus takes in the sky, and draw it out, it becomes a pentagram. Not the pointed star like this, but a pentagram all the same.”

“Yeah, but it being associated with Satanic rituals is what it’s known for in my time,” Desmond said.

Evie frowned, but made note. “Still, with everything else we’ve figured, we can’t discount the possible double meaning. If Altair was so quick to point out that Venus was associated with the pentagram, then there’s no reason to think that the previous subject didn’t know it as well.”

“Then, would the double meaning be tied to each other, or just used to mention something different?” Desmond asked.

“That’s something we can look into later,” Elise said.

“Right,” Evie said, nodding. “Next is the Borromean rings.”

“Impossibility and unity,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “Considering what the Animus does, that makes sense.”

“The Eye of Horus,” Evie said, “It’s a symbol of protection, royal power, and good health. It’s also meant to protect the Pharaoh in the afterlife, and used to ward off evil. It was placed near the entrance to the lab, so…”

“Simple enough,” Desmond said, “For their sake, I hope it worked.”

“Yeah,” Evie agreed, “Next, there are three triangles here that was placed near the Eye of Horus. Best guess we have right now is that they’re the Pyramids of Giza.”

“There are rumors of a Piece of Eden, as well as Assassin artifacts placed in Egypt,” Elise said.

“It’s likely. The first mentions of Assassins we have were around that time period,” Altair said, “And we believe that is when the Order was created. Or what would become the Order.”

“Next symbol is of a step pyramid, also near the entrance to the lab,” Evie said.

“Step pyramids are a physically stable way of building tall structures,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “Different cultures from around the world developed the style independently of each other. We do not have any in the region where my people are, but there are several both to the West and to the South of us.”

“Next- well, we ignored the barcode, but it had a date underneath it, which is December twenty-first, two thousand and twelve,” Evie said.

“The end of the world,” Desmond said, “there are already people that are preparing doomsday bunkers.”

“Isn’t the world supposed to end several times over between my time and yours?” Altair asked, eyebrow raised.

“At  _ least _ twenty times,” Desmond confirmed, “But people are more worried about this, with the whole Mayan Calendar thing.”

“And no one stopped to think that the reason the Calendar stopped being made was because the Spanish arrived in South America?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked dryly.

“Nope,” Desmond said.

“Moving on,” Evie said amusedly, “The last of the symbols, before we get to the letters in the main room, is actually the Templar’s plan. It’s a pyramid filled with eyes, all looking at an apple. You have three guesses on what it means.”

“How shocking,” Aveline said, and rolled her eyes. “What about the letters, then?”

“The square says, going bottom to top, right to left,  _ artefacts sent to the skies to control all nations, to make us a hidden crusade. Do not help them _ . It’s placed next to the pyramid with the apple, so…”

“I don’t get it, Evie,” Ezio said dryly, “Please, tell me, what does it mean?”

Evie rolled her eyes at him. “The triangle… well,” she sighed, and Desmond and Altair looked to them. This one was slightly more serious then. “It’s from the previous subject. It says, bottom to top, right to left,  _ they drained my soul and made it theirs. I drained my body to show you where I saw it. _ It was placed at the foot of the Animus.”

Desmond sighed, and closed his eyes briefly. “I’m going to have to learn their name, if only to give them  _ something _ when I get out of here.”

“They deserve a memorial, at least,” Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed softly.

“What did they see, though?” Altair asked. “Literally, I take it to mean where they found their soul. But with everything else they left behind, it can’t just be that.”

“Something that made doing  _ all _ of this worth it in the end,” Evie said grimly, waving her hand over the papers.

“It has to be,” Jun said.

“Is that it for the main room?” Desmond asked after a moment.

“Yes,” Evie said. She gathered the papers, set them aside, and then picked up the rest of the pile. “Next we have your room. These are probably the most important ones. They wanted to be absolutely certain that you could see it.”

“Especially since I’m locked in,” Desmond said.

“Like I said before, we don’t know what the curved symbol or the clam-like shapes are, other than something to do with maths,” Evie said. “Nor do we recognize the string of numbers, or what the Answers reference.”

“Which we won’t know until you’re out,” Elise said.

“But what we do know is… a lot, actually,” Evie said, “the Hebrew is  _ Olam Haba _ .”

“The World to Come,” Altair translated, “The world which will exist after the messiah arrives on Earth. It’s Jewish.”

“Right,” Evie agreed. “We’ve got the phrase,  _ we are all books containing thousands of pages and within each of them lies an irreparable truth _ .”

“They were an Animus subject too,” Desmond said thoughtfully, “And we’ve seen that the genetic memories are accurate. It’s odd, because there are details that I don’t remember, if only because I didn’t  _ need _ to, or  _ couldn’t _ , remember it all.”

“Living the life of an ancestor through your DNA is odd,” Ezio pointed out. “Besides, Templars alter history as they see fit, and quite drastically too. Yet the Animus and the genetic memories show it as it happened exactly.”

“We also have a reference to the Bible, like I thought,” Evie said, “It’s Revelations thirteen, verses sixteen through eighteen. They’re about the mark of the beast.”

“Another method of control, like the Apple,” Aveline said, “Since it says that one isn’t allowed to buy or sell anything without the mark.”

“There’s another holy book reference,” Evie said, “This time, to the Quran.  _ Al-Zalzala _ .”

“The Earthquake,” Altair translated, “and Sura ninety-nine, I think? To paraphrase, when the world ends, people will be separated and taken to show their deeds, and they will see whether or not they did good or evil.”

“Next we have the omega symbol, with numbers across from it,” Evie said, “Considering that we already had references to two holy books, we looked into it, and it matched. Revelations twenty-two, verse thirteen.  _ I am alpha and omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last _ .”

“Meant to describe God’s ultimate power over the world, of course,” Ezio said. “Completely understandable, as a wish-fulfillment for the Templars.”

“The last phrase in English is from the previous subject. Considering what it says, I’d assume that it’s the last one they wrote,” Evie said.

“The rest I translated this morning,” Jun said, “They all seem to be in reference to the world and how humans perceive it individually.”

“So,” Desmond said, looking between them all, “Any theories on what it all means?”

“The end of the world is important,” Elise said, “With several different references to it, both the event itself and what happens  _ after _ .”

“Controlling humanity,” Aveline said, “The mark of the beast, the omega symbol, and the Templar’s plan itself.”

“Unity,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said simply. “There were several man-made structures, and it took cooperation to have those built. It could be either positive or negative, since the Templar’s wish to control the people.”

“Well,” Desmond said, thinking it over, “Even if it’s only just theories right now, it’s rather bleak, all said together like that.”

-

_ Altair watched the Hospital. He very carefully did not use his second sight to do so; he had made the mistake previously, when he first arrived, and it had nearly blinded him. Not the colors and the information provided, but because it was here that he realized that the second sight gave him the ability to  _ see _ sickness. And the Hospital was saturated with that sickly yellow-green color. If he didn’t have so much control over his body, Altair would have thrown up. _

_ Garnier was a monster, and he needed to die. Even without the command given to him by Al Mualim, Altair would have likely done it himself. Ratonhnhaké:ton couldn’t even visit properly while Altair sat here, as he had the most sensitive nose of them all, and that was how his second sight gave him the knowledge of the sickness. _

_ “I’d ask you to assassinate him just to get that place cleaned properly,” Elise grimaced, looking over everything. She was the only one that could stand being there longer than a moment. “Here and now, they still believe that God protects them from illnesses born of filth.” _

_ “Who could we put in Garnier’s place?” Altair asked. It was a good idea. There was merit in getting a Hospital properly running, even a Templar one. _

_ “I have no idea,” Elise said. “There will be a power vacuum here afterwards. Depending on how the assassinations Al Mualim assigned to you go, we might be able to put someone we can trust to know what they’re doing in charge.” _

_ “It wouldn’t be up to the standards of Desmond’s time, but it would still be better than what is going on now,” Altair said. _

_ “It would take years to send one of the Masyaf healers, garden or otherwise, and we were already placing priority on the Bureaus in the other cities,” Elise said. She eyed the building, this time thoughtfully. “But most of our plans are in the years range anyways, right?” _

_ “Right,” Altair agreed, “That’s an idea. Desmond has access to doctors and medicinal information from around the world. When we establish the doctors in the Bureaus, we might start a plan to be able to have one placed in the Hospital.” _

_ “If we could get one of the women of the garden, who know us and trust us, and that we know and trust in return, we might even be able to put a Templar in place,” Elise mused. “It’d take more work, but it would last longer, I feel.” _

_ “It would,” Altair said. He hummed as motion caught his eye. He looked very briefly with his second sight, just enough to note the white glow of information. Elise put her hand on his shoulder to steady him from the sickly smoke he had also unfortunately seen. “There is one I need to trail. Perhaps we can learn how the Knights here feel about Garnier. This might be less bloody than we thought beforehand.” _

_ “We can only hope.” _

-

Lucy looked tired when Desmond was let out of the Animus for his lunch break. It was an actual bowl of chicken and noodles this time, and he raised an eyebrow at it.

“Wow, you didn’t have to splurge on me. Thanks, Lucy,” Desmond said as he grabbed the warm bowl, almost too hot to the touch. Because even if it was rather generic, it  _ was _ pretty nice compared to some cold sandwiches. “Think you can go and grab some alcohol too? I’ll mix you a cocktail. After dealing with good old Doctor Vidic, you deserve it.”

Lucy smiled at him. “I appreciate the offer, Desmond. But I think that’s a little beyond what I can do for you.”

“Even do for yourself?” Desmond asked.

“You’re not the only one with restrictions placed on them,” Lucy said, and rolled her eyes slightly.

“I think there’s a difference between me being kidnapped off the street and forced into machine and what you do here, Lucy,” Desmond said mildly.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Lucy said softly.

That was an honest answer. Desmond eyed her as he slurped at some noodles. Hm. He could push a little, he felt. “Why do you even work for Vidic, anyways? He doesn’t seem like a good guy to work for. Like, at all.”

“He’s normally a lot more polite,” Lucy defended, “He’s just under a lot of stress, right now.”

“This is how he acts when he’s stressed?” Desmond asked, “I don’t know if it’s a good mark of character that when he’s under pressure he turns into a condescending, overbearing, elitist piece of crap, you know.”

“He saved my life,” Lucy said softly, glancing where Vidic was at his desk. “I was going to be killed, because I wanted to talk about the Animus. It proved a lot of my own theories correct, and I was excited to to show everyone who said I was just preaching fake science,” Lucy sighed, and tapped the table with her fingertips. “Unfortunately, Abstergo is really invested in keeping the projects under development a secret. I truly thought I was going to die. But before they could take me out, Warren stopped them.”

“He did that?” Desmond asked.

“Yes,” Lucy said, “So, I know he can be… hard, to like. But don’t be so quick to judge him, Desmond. He really is a good man.”

“Maybe,” Desmond said slowly. “I still don’t like him.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Lucy said.

Desmond hummed nocommitically.

“So that’s how they got her to betray the Assassins,” Evie said. “It wasn’t just having her cut off from them, it was instilling a sense of both betrayal on the Assassin’s part and being saved by the Templars.”

“Ask her about the Animus itself,” Jun said.

“So, you helped make the Animus?” Desmond asked curiously.

“I did,” Lucy said proudly, smiling at him, perking up quickly. “Or at least several versions of it; it’s been in use for much longer than I’ve worked at Abstergo. But for the past three years, I designed a lot of the hardware and the operating systems, and helped with the programs that help bring the memories to life. It’s being updated constantly still, but this is the one-point-oh, the first of what I call the beta stage.”

“That’s amazing, Lucy,” Desmond said.

It really, really was. She was a computer technician, computer programmer, knew technical design, knew neuroscience, and could combine all of it into a workable profession. And as much as he hated to admit it, Lucy wouldn’t have had the ability to do any of it without Abstergo. For as terrible a company as it was, it used its influence and power to bring more workers and resources in. Templars did enjoy acquiring the best of the best, after all.

“Thank you,” Lucy said, smiling lightly, but completely sincerely. “It took some hard work and a lot of doubt to get here, but I’m rather proud of what I’ve accomplished.”

“Oh, I like her,” Elise said, studying Lucy, “Can we keep her? I know we just want her on our side to get out of here and away from Abstergo, but I  _ like _ her.”

“She is rather impressive,” Evie agreed.

Desmond hid a smile by eating the rest of his noodles. He liked Lucy, too.

-

That evening, when Desmond was let out for the day, he found himself rather sluggish. It wasn’t that his body was tired, though it certainly felt it. No, this was mental exhaustion. His brain was having some trouble sending the proper commands to his limbs.

“Desmond, how are you feeling?” Lucy asked. She held out her hands, as if she was going to help him sit up. She didn’t though. Desmond sat up easily enough on his own.

“Tired,” Desmond replied, and rubbed at his eyes. They were sort of crusty; even if he wasn’t truly sleeping, it seemed like his eyes produced mucus anyways.

“Desmond?” Lucy asked, voice slightly off somehow.

“Yeah?” Desmond said.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Desmond asked curiously. “I mean, I’m tired, but it’s not so bad. I just need some sleep.”

Lucy looked worriedly at him. “Desmond, you’re not speaking English.”

Desmond blinked at her, thrown. “Oh, sorry,” he said, switching tracks. “Being in the memories must have confused me. Am I speaking English now?”

“Yes,” Lucy said, relieved. “Confused you? Most others would be alarmed at suddenly speaking another language.”

Desmond raised an eyebrow. “You sure your file on me is actually complete? I’m Hispanic, Lucy. I grew up speaking Spanish alongside English.”

Lucy flushed lightly with embarrassment. “Oh, it mentioned that you knew another language. But I speak a little bit of Spanish, and that definitely wasn’t it.”

“Then what was I speaking?” Desmond asked. He glanced at the others, who shrugged. They all heard each other in their native language. It took effort to  _ not _ understand each other.

“Um,” Lucy hesitated, and glanced at Vidic, who was once again busy with something else. “It sounded like Arabic, honestly.”

“Oh,” Desmond said. “That makes sense, I guess.” He had been in Altair’s memories, after all. He was surprised it didn’t happen more often.

“Do you speak Arabic?” Lucy asked curiously. Her brow was furrowed in worry still.

“Some,” Desmond said. He rubbed his arm. He actually started learning when he was eight or nine. It was through his efforts that they learned how to separate themselves enough that they could learn each other’s language independently. “I learned when I was younger.”

“Did your parents make you learn?” Lucy asked. Ah, yes, he did say that his parents wanted him to be ‘like Altair’. Not a stretch to think that included the language.

“No,” Desmond said, shrugging. “I mean, we learned some phrases and stuff, enough to know how to say it and read it. But I chose to learn Arabic on my own.”

“Why?” Lucy asked.

“Ah,” Desmond thought back. He wanted to learn because of Altair, actually. “I met someone, when I was eight, who didn’t speak English or Spanish, but knew Arabic. I wanted to learn so that I could talk with them.”

“Oh,” Lucy said. Her expression turned soft at the explanation.

“Ask about the side effects,” Jun said, “Because it seems to me that she’s not  _ surprised _ that you could be speaking a different language. Worried, yes, but not surprised.”

“Is suddenly learning a new language a side effect of using the Animus?” Desmond asked.

Lucy hesitated. “...Yes. It’s a concern. Bringing the genetic memories forward constantly makes it possible that they blend with your real-time memories. Mildly, it can lead to speaking different languages.”

“Mildly?” Desmond repeated, “What happens when it gets worse?”

“Hallucinations are likely,” Lucy admitted, “As the brain is unable to differentiate between your own memories and your ancestral memories. In the worst case scenarios, the genetic memories can completely overwhelm a person and make them believe they  _ are _ their ancestors.”

Desmond stared at her, and his own mild horror brought the everyone else that wasn’t already there to the room.

“Is that what happened to the previous subjects?” Desmond asked darkly, “I’m subject seventeen, right? Did the previous sixteen subjects all lose their minds?”

Lucy blinked back tears. “Not all of them, but many, yes. Some of them did experience some mild hallucinations, but were released without any further problems.”

“Mostly truth,” Altair declared, watching her with golden eyes. “She is truly upset about it, though. Her thoughts turned to the symbols on the floor.”

Desmond looked at Lucy, then took a deep breath. “You know what, I’m not even going to bother getting angry about it. I’m doing good so far, and it’s not like I  _ can _ do anything else. I’m stuck here after all.”

“I’m sorry, Desmond,” Lucy said softly.

Yeah, Desmond was too.

0o0o0

  
  



	12. I May Fall 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we have part 4 of desmond's story. we're going a bit faster here now, as we're getting closer to the end of the first game.
> 
> altair is throwing a coup, desmond's not going insane but he's sure being effected, and ezio now knows that they're in rome. there's a phrase or something like it that goes 'when in rome...'
> 
> ps i read all your guys' comments and i love them and they're what's keeping me writing as quickly as i am. like, i'm invested and would write regardless, but be aware that it's as fast as it because of you all. i <3 u

“So we can assume that Sixteen had a Chinese ancestor,” Desmond mused, arm pressed over his eyes. He had a headache again. Which may or may not be because the Animus was messing with his brain. And wasn’t that a pleasant thought?

They also had something to call the the one who painted the symbols, instead of just referring to them as ‘the previous subject’. Sixteen wasn’t that much better, a number instead of a name, but at least it was  _ something _ . Maybe they could get Lucy to talk about them eventually?

Though in this case, she wasn’t keeping information from Desmond just for secrecy, but actual trauma regarding the situation. If she was the one to find Sixteen’s body and the blood on the floor… yeah, Desmond would give her some time.

“They likely did,” Jun said. “The way they wrote was fluent, and had some regional writing quirks. People who learn Chinese as a second language don’t do that. And this is assuming that they are not Chinese in the first place. Abstergo has already proven that they can transport people across the world.”

“Sixteen was also intelligent, or very well read. Likely both,” Elise said, “Much of what they wrote included symbols, math, and verses from religious texts. If we consider the Bleeding Effect, sure, Sixteen could have learned some of it from their ancestors’ memories. But that’s a low probability.”

“Desmond?” Altair asked concernedly, weight settling on the bed as he appeared.

Desmond pulled his arm away from his eyes and grabbed Altair’s hand. “I’m reliving your memories,” he said.

“Yes,” Altair said, eyebrows raised. “I know, I was there.”

“No, it’s not that-” Desmond started, and then sighed. “What do you guys see, when I’m in the Animus?”

Altair and Jun glanced at each other. “It’s like we’re visiting,” Jun said, “But in the memory. You don’t see or hear us at all, we’re just along for the ride. Like a movie.”

“Yeah, I wish it was like that for me,” Desmond said, “I’m  _ reliving _ the memory. When I”m synched enough to move forward, I’m not Desmond, playing with the computer model version of Altair. I  _ am _ Altair, remembering.”

“Well,” Altair said, and squeezed Desmond’s han in return. “That is. Something for sure.”

“You’ve been confusing languages,” Jun said, repeating what Desmond had told Lucy before.

“Sixteen went insane,” Desmond said, and waved his free hand at the wall above his head. He really didn’t care if the cameras saw him right now. Let them think he had a nightmare. “They remained  _ themselves _ enough to do this, but they still went mad.”

“We’re here,” Jun said, and pressed closer to them both. Another heartbeat, and the others all arrived as well, pulled in the need of comfort. “And we are helping, aren’t we?”

“You are,” Desmond said, smiling at them all. “And you’re keeping me grounded to myself. But if you  _ weren’t _ here… if I was by myself…” he trailed off.

“You are plenty strong, but you are the most easy going and adaptive of us,” Evie said, combing her hand through Desmond’s hair.

“It’d be easy to just… go along, with Altair’s memories, wouldn’t it?” Aveline asked.

“Especially here, isolated from anyone that could keep you anchored,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

There was a pause before Elise said, “That’s also part of their plan, isn’t it? They were going to use the Bleeding Effect to further manipulate you. Lucy makes a very pleasing and stable target to focus on.”

“I think she’d be sincere in her attempts to help,” Evie said, frowning, “She really does feel terribly about what happened to Sixteen, and likely prior subjects.”

“It’s just that it wouldn’t stop her from using it to further gain my trust,” Desmond said. Evie nodded.

“I still like her,” Elise said, sighing heavily. “She is brilliant, and has a wonderful personality.”

“We can still keep her,” Desmond said dryly, “It might even be easier, since we both have her sympathy and her pity.”

“I don’t like being pitied,” Altair grumbled.

“Too bad, we’re already showing we’re going to go insane,” Aveline said, and poked him in the side.

Desmond snorted down laughter. Wow, he was tired. “We can worry about the state of my mind later. I’m exhausted, and there’s not much else we can do now.”

“We’re all here, so we may as well sleep together,” Evie said. “It’ll be a tight fit, but who cares?”

-

The next morning, Desmond stared at the closet door. It had been opened, revealing spare sets of clothes on the shelves. And its contents were just a little disturbing. The jeans, he could understand, as well as the spare shoes. Even the dark gray shirt was generic. But the hoodie was… well.

“I don’t know if they intend to creep me out or not,” Desmond said out loud.

His hoodie wasn’t uncommon, since he had bought it in a store. But it was a rather niche hoodie design, truth be told. Desmond adored it, of course, but there were limits.

“They’re absolutely covered in bugs,” Evie said, eyeing them.

Which they were. In the seams and waistband of the jeans, in the collar and the hem of the shirts, imbedded in the soles of the shoes, and in the toes of the socks. Strangely, other than the trackers put in the lining of the hoodies, they were conspicuously absent otherwise. Probably because hoodies could be taken off and discarded more easily.

“I don’t know if they mean to imply that you can escape or not,” Ezio said, looking over the clothes.

“It could be a  _ just in case _ situation,” Evie mused, “Because even Abstergo has to follow building codes, which would let Desmond leave in case of an emergency.”

“Building codes are different in Italy,” Ezio assured them.

“And how would you know?” Desmond asked him, eyebrow raised. “I was never particularly interested in building codes of other countries.”

Ezio rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. But Italians are stubborn, yes? With all the ruins everywhere, building codes are different.”

“Unfortunately, you did ask for spare clothes,” Evie said. “And you do need a shower.”

Desmond sighed and grabbed spares. He fiddled with the hem a little, and- ah, good. He could take the bugs out, though it’d leave the clothing a bit frayed. Though he would be keeping his own shoes, thank you very much. “Right. At least they left the underwear alone.”

And Desmond did feel a bit better in clean clothes. The bugs were artfully placed, and he didn’t even notice them when he put the clothes on. He could sense them, of course, his second sight pointed them out to him at all times. But at least they were good clothes. He carefully didn’t think about who would be washing them.

Maybe they had a maid service? Though he had no idea what the background check for that would be like.

“Good morning, Desmond,” Lucy greeted when he left his room. She wore a differently colored shirt today. A soft blue instead of the off white. It flattered her complexion and brightened her eyes.

“Morning, Lucy,” Desmond said. “I didn’t know you owned different clothing,” he teased gently.

Lucy blinked, and relaxed. Ah, so she  _ was _ still a bit tense from their conversation last night. “I always did, I promise.”

“I see that now,” Desmond said. “Anyways, thanks for the spare clothes. Though I do wonder how you got so many copies of the same hoodie.”

Desmond sat on the Animus, and grabbed a muffin off of the breakfast tray. There were a couple of large muffins and an egg sandwich, as well as two plastic cups of juice. That was a rather large breakfast comparatively, wasn’t it?

“I wasn’t actually in charge of getting you clothes,” Lucy admitted, “But- the same hoodie?”

“I’ve had that hoodie for a few years now,” Desmond said dryly, “I hope I could recognize it by now.”

Lucy looked amused, and nodded in agreement. She looked like she was about to say something when Vidic arrived.

“Time’s wasting, Mister Miles, Miss Stillman,” he said. Wow, he sounded in an even worse mood than usual. “Hurry and finish your breakfast, and we’ll get started. You have a longer session planned today, Mister Miles.”

Desmond glanced between Vidic and the large breakfast. Well, that explained that at least. He looked to Lucy, who smiled somewhat guiltily. “What do you mean, a longer session?”

“You are not going as quickly as we’d like, due to your rather abysmal synchronization rate,” Vidic said, “And my superiors are rather impatient for results. To increase the rate till we reach the memory we are looking for, you will be spending longer in the Animus.”

“Oh, you smarmy-” Elise trailed off into muttering several rather intense French curse words.

“Do I have to?” Desmond asked petulantly.

“Either this or the coma, Mister Miles,” Vidic said.

“Fine,” Desmond said.

Elise increased how many curse words she threw at Vidic with Desmond’s silent prodding. Huh, Elise was more incensed than she normally was. He’d have to ask her what was wrong, later. Desmond was so focused on dealing with the Animus that he’d been practically ignoring the others.

“Well, I’m the one going to help you today,” Aveline said, frowning. “I’m free, so the longer session won’t be a problem for me today. But it might be for the others.”

“We’ll deal with it when we get to it,” Elise said.

Desmond sighed, and finished eating his breakfast.

-

_ “Something is wrong,” Altair said softly as he gazed into the distance. _

_ Masyaf was his. He had an eagle in his heart and mind that shared its sight with him, and all of Altair’s instincts told him that he belonged here. This place was his to watch over. _

_ And there was something completely and utterly  _ wrong _. It was like the edge of a blade poised over the back of his neck. Like the gaze of a pack of hungry wolves. Altair bristled internally at it, as if anything dared to even pretend that they were greater than he. _

_ Altair sighed, and made himself still. He pushed his irritation and rage into a thin blade of  _ focus _ , and found himself calm again, able to think clearly separately from the eagle. _

_ “Al Mualim sent you on missions that have little to do with the Order,” Ezio said. _

_ “They were all terrible men, and were planning terrible things,” Altair said. _

_ It wasn’t a defense, but rather an admittance. Because Altair would have chosen to do those assassinations himself, were he to find out their true natures, and what they intended to do to people, on his own time. _

_ “We would never have found out about him if they hadn’t told us while they died,” Desmond said. “That you had an enemy so close to you.” _

_ Altair closed his eyes. It was an uneasy thought, the idea of betrayal. Especially from the man that led them all. He had been the Mentor for as long as Altair could remember. For the Old Man on the Mountain to be the enemy- _

_ “I’m sorry,” Aveline said softly, and gripped his hand, sympathetic and understanding. She, who was still the most similar to Altair even after all these years. Desmond shared his appearance, but Aveline shared his heart. _

_ “Still, we can  _ use _ this,” Elise said. Always so pragmatic, even as she filled with rage at the betrayal. “It was assumed that you would become Mentor after Al Mualim, even if it took years. It’s why we made all the plans we did.” _

_ “I’m not sure we planned on Altair becoming Mentor by disposing of the old one,” Desmond said dryly. _

_ “But we cannot let him continue,” Altair said, and opened his eyes. The eagle screeched in rage and intention; a declaration that he was defending his territory, and clearing it of trespassers. “I need to speak with Isra, and with Rauf.” _

_ And Malik. They would need his help for this. _

-

That night, something drew Desmond’s attention back to the closet. He didn’t know what prompted him to, but he looked through the stacks and- there was a piece of paper with codes written on it. He glanced at them, and then at the door. He focused a little on the paper, trying to get the sense of who gave it to him.

_ Lucy _ .

It felt like Lucy. So, here she was, giving him freedom. He had asked to be let out of the room, if only to stretch his legs properly. He didn’t think he implied in any way that she should give him access to leave his room when they weren’t there.

Desmond didn’t know if she was left to get his trust on her own terms, or if Vidic had given her the order.

“She does very well in toeing the line between truly wanting to help you, and wanting to gain your trust to manipulate you,” Aveline observed.

On the one hand, Desmond absolutely was going to do laps in the Animus room. He needed the exercise, and hopefully it’d help with the Bleeding Effect headaches. He might not be losing himself to the memories, but the Animus was still messing with his brain. And exercise, even just a brisk walk, would help him. The added freedom would help him, because Lucy definitely didn’t  _ want _ to hurt him.

On the other, there were cameras everywhere and they clearly wanted to see what he would do. Sure, it might be pragmatic in the long run, giving him a taste of freedom to make him more compliant. But still, it was a way to observe his behaviors and to see what he did. They were adding to the profile they already had on him.

“May as well look outside more clearly,” Ezio said, “There are windows all along the wall, and it wasn’t like I had the chance to look around properly.”

“It’s dark outside now,” Desmond said.

Ezio grinned. “We are  _ Assassins _ , Desmond. I know what Italy looks like under the cover of the night.”

“Okay,” Desmond said, laughing softly. “Let’s try these out, yeah? Despite everything, it’ll be nice to stretch my legs.”

With that said, he memorized the numbers on the paper and put them back on the shelf. He could flush it down the toilet later. He pressed the code into the keypad, and sighed in relief when the light flashed green. The door opened with a smooth  _ swwsh _ , and Desmond stepped out of his prison room.

Desmond stepped out of the room carefully. He wouldn’t put it past Vidic to place security here the night he had the codes, if only to shove Desmond back in. Vidic definitely would use his perceived escape to restrict Desmond’s freedom even further.

Nothing. That was good. He eyed the exit, wondering if he should even try. Eh, he’d rather not, there was no reason to. But… they were out of the room, now. Desmond  _ tugged _ , and drew all of his other selves here.

The emergency overhead lights lit the room well enough to see by, though everything was that much more dim. The air conditioning was still on, a droning sound, but this late at night it was focused on the server banks instead of the entire room.

The deep shadows in the corners of the room only highlighted how  _ tall _ and expansive the room was. Other than the Animus, Vidic’s desk, and the server banks, the room was devoid of anything.

“Well, here we are,” Desmond said. “Lucy gave me the codes to leave the room.”

“As expected, though she did it earlier than we thought she would,” Elise said.

“She’ll probably escalate what she gives us,” Evie said. “Start with just letting you out of the room to see what you do.”

“Window, Desmond,” Ezio said, walking there.

“I’d tell you it’s nighttime, but you’re an Assassin,” Elise said dryly, and followed him.

“Of course, love,” Ezio agreed. “ _ Desmond _ had to be reminded though.”

“Oh, shame on you, Desmond,” Elise called back to him. “Shame!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!” Desmond replied, walking to the windows.

As he did, the six others looked around the room with their second sight, making notes of the architecture. How one room was built was generally how the other rooms were built. And knowing how a building was built was one of the ways to maneuver within. Anything to help Desmond’s eventual escape.

Ezio looked out of them, frowning. They did a slow circuit past the windows, and Ezio peered at everything with his second sight.

“... I think this is Rome,” Ezio said after studying the buildings. “I haven’t been to Rome, so that is why I did not immediately recognize it.”

“We’re in Rome?” Desmond asked.

He looked out the windows, as if he would recognize it this time. Well, at least he could spend time searching for and memorizing all of the paths that they could run once they were out of the building. It looked like they were on the fourth floor, if he was judging the distance right.

“There’s something about it that’s just familiar,” Ezio said thoughtfully. “I don’t know how to explain it. Deja vu, maybe?”

“Well, you are planning on going to Rome in the future, right?” Desmond asked. “And this is the future. We already get enough of a headache with the time travel, might as well get nostalgia for a place you haven’t visited yet personally, but have been to several centuries ago here.”

Ezio made a face at that, but nodded. He looked outside again. “I have cleared out my schedule for tomorrow, so I will be with you. I am planning for a longer session like today, but hopefully it won’t be.”

“Vidic is an asshole, though, so we know it’ll be a longer session,” Elise sighed.

“Unfortunately,” Desmond agreed. He stretched his arms above his head. “It’s getting late, and today wasn’t any less exhausting.”

“We’re doing well, I feel,” Aveline said, and came up to them, rubbing at her arms. “Especially the time crunch that we’re on with Altair.”

“We didn’t have choose when Abstergo found you, but they did choose to kidnap you at a very annoying time,” Altair sighed.

“Yeah, sorry,” Desmond said, grimacing.

Honestly, with the way the Animus affected him, and needed another of them to keep him stable, it split their attention. They were all efficient enough not to require constant watching and help, yes, but being  _ together _ made things easier.

“Really not your fault,” Evie said, poking him in the side. “Anyways, it’s late. Do your laps and then go to bed.”

“Yes, mother,” Desmond said.

-

_ Malik and Kadar were hidden in the gardens. Considering the ordeal that they both had been put through in Jerusalem, the Assassins accepted the fact that the women were taking care of them. It was even true, for the most part. Their bodies were still healing, and so were their hearts. _

_ It also made it so that they were at hand when Altair led Rauf to the gardens and past them to the inner courtyard. Only the most trusted were allowed within that place. Not even Al Mualim was allowed there without express permission. Which, of course, was why they were having their meeting there. _

_ “Well,” Rauf said, looking around the courtyard, curious despite himself. He had stiffened in surprise when he saw where Altair was leading him. Very few Brothers even knew the inner courtyard even existed. “I was curious before. Now I am worried.” _

_ “Altair, what’s going on?” Kadar asked plaintively. He had become incredibly blunt about asking questions after he had finally asked Altair what he was hiding from him. Curiosity was something to be celebrated, after all. _

_ “I would like to know as well,” Isra said, eyebrows raised as she looked over them. She was folding clean bandages as she waited with them. _

_ The only other women there was Hawa, the one Isra was training to take over after her, and who they were hoping to be Altair’s partner within the gardens. Unlike Al Mualim, who was distant from Isra, Altair and Hawa were hoping to bring the women of the gardens more in line with the Brothers. They all needed the cross training. _

_ “I have allowed you to hold your meeting here because you said it was important. But I would like to know what it is about,” Isra said. _

_ Malik and Rauf both turned to look at Altair in surprise. They knew he visited the gardens often, but had thought it was to discuss what missions he went on as a Master. Many thought it was because he spoke here that Altair was as quiet as he was. _

_ To have the Master of the Gardens speak so informally to Altair, nevermind trusting him enough to allow him to call the meeting in the first place, would be shocking. _

_ Altair shrugged. His other selves all arrived, at his shoulder and past. This was a conversation that they all needed to be a part of, though his other selves would be in the back. Masyaf was  _ his _ , and though they shared their hearts, minds, and souls, Altair would always take the lead here. _

_ “I am planning a coup,” Altair said simply. _

_ There was silence from the ones in front of him. Aveline giggled behind him at their reactions. Isra sighed heavily and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, while Hawa looked caught between outrage and sheer laughter. Rauf blinked wide eyes at him, startled into silence. Kadar looked at Altair, shocked, but then shrugged, rolling with the punches as he always did. _

_ Malik was silent and blank faced. Yet Altair could see the incoming tirade, red smoke gathering around his frame as he got ready to yell. He waited for just a moment and then- ah, yes. There Malik went, cursing up a storm. _

_ There were some rather inventive threats in there, and some colorful interpretations about Altair’s lineage. _

_ Altair could feel Desmond and Ezio making some mental notes about some of them. Kadar didn’t even blink, though he did look thoughtful. Rauf turned to Malik, eyebrows raised. Hawa started laughing. And Isra just continued to hold the bridge of her nose. _

_ It would take some time for Malik to calm down enough to actually discuss what Altair was saying. _

_ Altair waited patiently; he knew Malik near as well as he knew his other selves, and Malik would help. He likely had noticed some troubles brewing long before Altair did. He just needed to vent some steam. _

-

“You’re doing well, Desmond,” Lucy said.

Desmond was  _ finally _ allowed out for his midday break, which was around three instead of noon. He was given an egg sandwich and a small cup of juice to scarf down before he would be put back into the Animus. Ezio appeared next to him, eating some trail mix, taking this as his own food break as well.

“They don't see us at all, do they?” Ezio asked, “In the Animus, I mean. It’s not like we left Altair alone for long in the last few months.”

Desmond shrugged lightly, and drank his juice. It wasn’t much of a meal, but Lucy had told him that he’d be getting a larger dinner to make up for it. He honestly didn’t care at the moment. The Animus made him  _ tired _ . Sure, he wasn’t hallucinating, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t being affected at all.

Ezio sighed and sat on the Animus, and leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Desmond leaned right back, and didn’t care that it probably looked like he was listing to the side. He savored the contact, and the lazy loop that started up between them.

Being stuck and isolated was hard, no matter that he had his other selves there. He had gotten used to being around  _ his people _ , the ones who had become his family in New York.

“You’ve only been here for five days and you’re already getting to be in bad shape,” Ezio said into Desmond’s hair, and held Desmond tighter.

“Desmond?” Lucy asked quietly, looking worriedly at him.

Desmond blinked and turned to her. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You look like you’re falling asleep,” Lucy said.

“I’m fine,” Desmond said.

Lucy raised an eyebrow and he tried again, this time in English. He might have used a slightly outdated British accent as he drew on Evie to make sure he spoke the right language, but at least it was English. Even if Lucy did blink in confusion at the sudden change in accent.

Dammit all, but he really was mixing up languages. He was normally very aware of which language he spoke in. And that was a problem, because he had people depending on him for his language skills in New York.

If he couldn’t keep his languages straight, then he couldn’t protect them as well.

Lucy’s brow furrowed, and she glanced between him and Vidic. “I’ll try to see if we can shorten the sessions,” she said.

“I’d appreciate it, Lucy,” Desmond said.

“We all would,  _ bella _ ,” Ezio said, for all that Lucy couldn’t hear him.

Fuck, but they needed to escape. Desmond wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

0o0o0

  
  



	13. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> interrupting your regularly scheduled desmond story to bring back the other type of chapter
> 
> more hc about eagle vision, haytham kenway is totally unprepared to deal with his son and his son's seven other selves, the auditore siblings are terrifying, ned is totally thinky but in a drastically different manner than evie and malik, and desmond is making a (fake) name for himself in nyc
> 
> btw, i dunno if it'll come up in the story proper, but all of them are non-binary. you've got eight of them sharing souls and hearts and minds, of course none of them are cis. they use their assigned pronouns bc it's easier for me to write and keep track of, but i promise, they're all properly confused as to why society is so up in arms about it... even if you disregard the fact that the binary was some colonial bullshit in general

“Master, something is wrong with Altair,” Kadar said. He frowned heavily, and glanced behind him and up past the fortress.

“How so?” Rauf asked, following his line of sight.

Kadar didn’t have the second sight but he was uncannily perceptive regardless. What was it that Altair said? Kadar didn’t have Eagle Vision, but he still had the eyes of an eagle. Malik had mentioned that he may have taken that from their mother.

Kadar frowned, and lifted his hand up to shake it back and forth. It was an odd movement, meant to convey something sort of neutral or bland in tone, and one he learned from Altair. Rauf didn’t think Altair knew that he adopted mannerism and body language from his other selves. Or, he didn’t know that he used them so liberally around others that  _ they _ could adopt them at all.

“Nothing bad, I don’t think. He just sort of feels like he needs company,” Kadar said.

“What about Malik?” Rauf asked. “He’s normally the one that handles Altair when he’s having one of his moods.” Usually by fighting each other. Honestly, for two people who  _ thought _ as much as they did, they sure found it easier to communicate through violence.

Kadar frowned again. “Malik is gone on a mission,” he said petulantly. Rauf supposed it was a testament to Malik’s parenting skills that Kadar remained as childish as he did, despite nearing his twenties. “I’d normally ask him first, anyways.”

“And why can’t you go speak with Altair?” Rauf asked mildly, deciding that the accidental insult wasn’t worth acknowledging. Altair adored Kadar. Actually, all eight of them adored Kadar. It was adorable how they doted on him. And it was also one of the reasons that Kadar had remained childish. “Also, why are you asking me?”

Kadar rolled his eyes. “Altair is hiding something, I know that, and he’s waiting for  _ something _ to happen before telling me what it is. Whatever is bothering him has to do with that. And everyone knows that Altair trusts you.”

Altair was waiting for Kadar to gather the courage to ask Altair directly, actually, but Rauf didn’t need to tell Kadar that. It had been long enough that the eight of them had a running bet on when Kadar would finally lose his patience.

“I see,” Rauf said.

“Anyways, can you go talk to him?” Kadar asked.

Rauf glanced in the direction Altair was. Or, where he assumed he was; Kadar had shown him as much. Hm. Rauf wasn’t terribly busy today, with the most recent batch of journeyman having left Masyaf for their apprenticeships. And what lessons he had were later, after the worst of the heat had passed.

“Alright,” Rauf said. “I’ll go and talk to him.”

“Thank you, Master!” Kadar said, relieved.

0o0o0

“Ezio!” Claudia yelled, and ran to tackle him. He grabbed her easily, and swung them around in circles.

“Claudia! You’ve grown!” Ezio crowed, and spun them around several more times before he put her down on her feet. “Ah, you’ve gained muscle while here! I see Uncle Mario has been teaching you well.”

Claudia grinned up at him. She had a scar on her temple- a new injury since the last time Ezio saw her. He frowned at it, and poked it, but didn’t worry too hard. At least, he tried not to. His little sister was hardy and tough, like any Auditore.

“I’m fine,” Claudia said, and rolled her eyes. She stepped back and grabbed his hand, and started pulling him along behind her. “Let’s show you to Uncle Mario first, and then I’ll take you on a quick tour. Much has changed since the last time you’ve been here.”

“I hope so, since it’s been almost two years since I’ve last visited,” Ezio said.

He was eager to see the changes his sister brought to Monteriggioni. She had come for a simple visit, saw the state of the accounts, the state of the villa, and declared that she wouldn’t be leaving until it fit her exacting standards. Which had been near six years ago now.

The Auditore all helped by directing people to Monteriggioni who needed the work and the safety. Ezio himself had sent over a blacksmith and a tailor, though Petruccio was the one that found a  _ banker _ . Claudia, however, was the one that ran the city. Ezio would be worried about how they treated her, as he was aware of how society treated independent women, but… well, it was  _ Claudia _ , and she was an Auditore. He would worry more about how  _ she _ treated  _ them _ .

“At least you visited!” Claudia said, “Federico is busy in Venice still. He hasn’t visited in almost  _ three _ . I’m just glad he sends letters.”

“I suppose it’s what we get for sending him away from Florence,” Ezio mused, entirely willing to let Federico to his role as the eldest brother. “And you, deciding that you would be the Lady of Monteriggioni.”

Claudia rolled her eyes. “And you’re planning on going to Rome when Petruccio can handle Florence on his own.”

“He’s come so far,” Ezio agreed, “He can’t do much of the physical work we do, but he has a mind for literally everything else. He has quite the terrifying mind, truth be told.”

“Of course he’s scary, he’s an Auditore,” Claudia said, grinning sharply at him. Ezio mirrored it, and they both laughed.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Claudia,” Ezio said. It truly was. Ezio felt the others’ content and satisfaction spooling beneath his ribs. They all had a hand in training Claudia, after all, and they delighted in seeing how strong Claudia was.

Claudia beamed at him.

0o0o0

Ratonhnhaké:ton watched as Haytham left. His  _ father _ left. He honestly had no idea how to feel about the situation. Maybe anger, because Haytham had killed those men with a complete lack of respect. Confusion, definitely. Some sort of  _ expectation _ , because this was his father, and that had to mean something, right?

“Wow,” Desmond said, “And here I thought I had problems with  _ my _ dad.”

“Will you be okay?” Aveline asked Ratonhnhaké:ton worriedly.

“I’ll be fine,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. He really didn’t have a choice, not when he had to hunt down Benjamin Church to return the supplies he had stolen. “It’s not that he’s a Templar that bothers me, in all honesty.” He did have several years to come to terms with it, after all.

“It absolutely shouldn’t bother you,” Elise scoffed, motioning to herself.

“No, he just seems like a manipulative ass,” Desmond said flatly. “He has some rather negative preconceived ideas about you, doesn’t he?”

“He does,” Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed, and narrowed his eyes. “He thinks me naive.” And ignorant, and childish… honestly, what had his mother seen in him  _ at all _ ? Hopefully he had changed in the past decades, rather than started off like that. His mother had standards.

“We can use that,” Evie said, and tapped her fingers as she thought. “He is the Grandmaster of the Colonial Rite. That means something, in all this.”

“He has hidden blades,” Altair said, “But I must admit, the way he uses them is really kind of insulting.”

“He fights like a novice,” Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed. “I wonder how long he’s had them?”

“Doesn’t matter if he hasn’t been training to use them properly,” Altair said.

“Kenway…” Evie said thoughtfully, “Edward Kenway. You’re grandfather was an Assassin.”

“Yes,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “We knew that.”

“It’s likely that your grandfather gave the hidden blade to him, then,” Altair said, “Though if he was taken in by Templars, then no wonder he’s only functional, and not proficient in their use.”

“Wonder if you can use that, too?” Elise asked, “If your father has enough of a heart to spare you when it would have been easy to kill you, then he must still care about  _ his _ father.”

“We have no idea,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “There is much we don’t know about him. Much of what I know was from other people’s discussion of him.”

“Either way, you have some decisions to make,” Desmond said, and looked to Ratonhnhaké:ton, rubbing at his arms. “He’s your dad. Blood  _ means _ something, even if it’s not as important as people would like it to be. Especially for people like us.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded, and started walking after Haytham. “Yes, I know.”

0o0o0

Ned frowned, and glanced at Miss Evie Frye from the corner of his eye. He held no illusion that she wasn’t aware of him looking at her. Her status as a  _ Master _ Assassin wasn’t lightly earned.

Speaking of… there were different ways that the Assassins used  _ Master _ , wasn’t there? It was in their tone of voice and the context they used it. Ned didn’t know the proper explanation, and he didn’t like not knowing. He’d have to ask. At this point, the worst he could expect from the twins, or Mister Henry Green, was a solid  _ no _ . And even that would be done politely.

Something to ask. But what was bothering him right now was that Evie kept looking at him, and then away. It wasn’t disgust; Evie was terribly blunt and honest about she found disgusting. He was waiting to point that she was exactly like her twin in that manner, just so he could see her face. The twins hated when others pointed out how similar they exactly were.

Another tangent. Evie kept glancing at him, and Ned wanted to know why. He was being patient, because she had a  _ thinking _ look, and Ned had helped enough people like himself to know when and when not to push.

Besides, if Evie was thinking, then it gave Ned more time to come to a decision on how he would speak to her about it. Half the reason Ned had been so polite to Jacob when Jacob had talked with him was because that was what Jacob needed. The other half, of course, was for the look on his face.

Eventually, though, Ned saw that Evie started walking towards him. Finally! Ned was a patient individual- he had to be, to get run his businesses as well as he did. But Assassins, apparently, took patient to an entirely different level. Even Jacob was quite capable of holding still, no matter that he complained often about it.

Ned truly was spending too much time around the Frye twins if he knew how they acted.

“Ned?” Evie called softly.

“Miss Evie Frye,” Ned said grandly, and smiled at her. “How may I help you? I, somewhat fortunately for myself, and unfortunately for you, am perfectly content at the moment. No jobs, or tasks,  _ or _ activities to hand out.”

“No, that’s fine,” Evie said, a faint smile on her lips. She glanced off to the side. “Actually, I was wondering if you had time to talk.”

Ned hummed thoughtfully. “Depends on what we’re talking about, Evie.” He had an idea, but in his line of work, he knew better than to  _ assume _ .

Evie hesitated. “Well, it’s not really any of my business to begin with, so I apologize if I’m speaking out of turn,” she started.

Ned raised an eyebrow.  _ Well _ then. “I assure you, Evie, that whatever you have to say will not be anywhere near the worst thing that I have ever heard.”

It was why he liked the twins, and Henry Green, and- well, likely the Assassins as a whole, if those three were rather accurate impressions of them all. They took his sheer existence at face value. He introduced himself as a man, and to them, a man he was.

“Jacob said that you talked to him,” Evie said, and paused. She looked off to the side for a brief moment before turning back to Ned. “And I was wondering if you would be free to talk with me? About something similar?”

This seemed to be a conversation that could take a while. Ned thought about it seriously; time was money, after all, and Ned was a rather busy man. “Not at the moment, no,” Ned said, “But I am free this afternoon for a couple of hours. I assume that you can find me? Yes, of course you can.”

Evie blinked at him, and smiled amusedly. Not at Ned, no, but at something else. He refrained from narrowing his eyes, but he noted it all the same. Evie was keeping  _ secrets _ , and he rather liked those.

Ned would have to bring it up; Assassins were odd in the way the regarded personal secrets. Which was that they weren’t secrets at all, just politely ignored facts until they didn’t need to be. So they never held it against others when  _ they _ asked about it. They’d either get an answer or be told ‘no’.

Or killed, Ned assumed, but that was if they didn’t like you. And he rather thought that the Frye twins liked him.

“Thank you, Ned,” Evie said instead of whatever was on her mind.

“I look forward to our talk,” Ned said.

He really did. It would prove to be interesting and enlightening, and probably even in ways that Ned wasn’t expecting. The Frye twins were good for that.

And that was a Frye thing and not an Assassin thing; Ned had  _ seen _ the way Henry Green looked at them sometimes. And that was that they had said and done something incredibly odd, yet endearing, and overall confusing. Which was another reason that he liked working with them. There really was never a boring moment.

Ned watched Evie walk off, head held high. Hm.

Well, he really  _ was _ busy until he said he was, so Ned best get on his way.

0o0o0

Desmond counted his heartbeat as he waited, hidden on top of the building. He wore a bag slung over his shoulder and back, weighed down with the documents he had been given, as well as a few trinkets.

What it was, he had no idea; after a couple of long years, he had made it a well known policy of his that he was a discreet, swift, anonymous, and  _ efficient _ courier for small items and documents. Anything that you needed to get somewhere fast, and of dubious legality, Desmond was the one you called.

Or, rather, Miles Guerrero was. Truths were often the best lies, so using his own surname and his mother’s maiden name made it easy to slip into the fake name.

The weight of the documents he carried right now were especially bright, and Desmond’s second sight made him intimately aware of their location. Anything that he carried tended to have the golden glow of  _ mission _ attached to them, but this particular set was bright.

And Desmond had looked more thoroughly at them, having trained his second sight to the point that he could  _ see _ whether or not he needed to look into the situation more carefully.

Not that he had gotten any jobs that required a second look after he, ah,  _ took care of _ the last person that tried to get him to deliver bombs for them. And it wasn’t even just the components to make bombs, either- no, it was to go around and set them.  _ That _ was a big no, as Desmond had very clearly stated. He still hadn’t seen that particular person around since.

Desmond ignored everyone that glowed bright enemy red under his sight. Well, the ones with no nuance to them at all, at least. Altair helped there, since he could more clearly tell if they were an enemy that wanted something from him, and enemy that just wanted to hurt him, or an enemy that would only become dangerous if provoked.

Since Desmond was constantly dealing with those types of people, his second sight was getting stronger. Altair was always ahead, though. Eh, whatever. Altair was a more naturally distrusting person in general. Desmond liked to believe in people.

He was taken from his thoughts when a flashlight lit up the emergency staircase below him. Desmond didn’t move; he was already well hidden where he was. Instead, he took a slow, even breath, and counted his heartbeats again.

Evie was better at this, becoming invisible. Even though Desmond had direct access to her head and  _ knew _ how she did it, it was still something she was better at. He could do an accurate enough imitation. Desmond was safe in the city, but  _ still _ . The only one who could do similarly was Ratonhnhaké:ton, but he was focused on the woods than the city.

“You’re nervous,” Aveline declared quietly, appearing crouched next to him. She was relaxed and loose. She wore her Assassin gear, though she didn’t wear her hat today. “You think a lot when you’re nervous.”

“This is a rather important job,” Desmond told her, mind drifting back to the golden-glow of the documents on his back. Aveline eyed them, but he  _ knew _ she only saw the faint edge of mission importance. This was Desmond-important and not them-important for now. “Some people  _ really _ don’t want these documents to make it where they’re going.”

“You weren’t seen though,” Aveline said, looking down to where the flashlight was still looking up the staircase.

“I wasn’t,” Desmond agreed. Jun had assured his as much when he left the pickup location. “It doesn’t mean that people  _ aren’t _ aware that this information is moving tonight, and that their lookers are decently trained, either.”

“Do you need help?” Aveline asked.

Desmond thought about it. “No, not really. I’m just nervous because the information is… kind of a lot.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“It has something to do with a computer expert that moved into town recently,” Desmond said, shrugging. “And they’re apparently kind of a legend in some circles. People  _ really _ want them on their side.”

“And you’re carrying information about this expert?” Aveline asked curiously.

“Apparently,” Desmond said. Depending on who he was delivering the documents  _ to _ , he might go looking for them himself. Reliable computer work was worth the trouble, if that was what they did.

He looked down again as the flashlight moved away from his area and somewhere else. He looked again with his second sight and- yes, it was free. Not that he would be going  _ down _ , mind, when the rooftops were perfectly acceptable travel space.

“I should get going. Good luck on whatever you’re doing tonight,” Desmond said.

“The same to you,” Aveline replied, and vanished.

0o0o0

“So,” Elise said, leaning on the back of Desmond’s chair, arms over his shoulders. “What does your Eagle Vision look like?”

“Are you asking everyone this?” Desmond asked amusedly.

“Yes,” Elise said. She moved her head forward, and her hair fell onto his head. “I know what Ezio sees already, of course. People are lit up like they’re lanterns. But what about you?”

“Am I the second person you asked?” Desmond turned his head to the side a little bit.

“Yeah, sure,” Elise said, shrugging. “Does the order really matter?”

“No, not really,” Desmond said, smiling. He brushed Elise’s hair away from his face. “But how I see the world through my second sight, huh?”

“Is it truly so hard a question?” Elise asked curiously.

“Yes, and no,” Desmond replied.

“Not really the answer I was looking for, but okay,” Elise said, smiling wryly down at him.

Desmond shrugged, and closed the book he was reading. For some reason, Elise tended to visit him when he was reading. “It’s hard, because it’s not  _ just _ the sight. We call it that, our second sight, Eagle Vision. But it’s not, really. It’s smell and sound and sight and touch and even taste, all wrapped up together into something else.”

“Awareness,” Elise said slowly, “Ratonhnhaké:ton said it was awareness, when he told us all about what you were seeing, right?”

“Yes,” Desmond agreed. He hummed thoughtfully. “How the awareness comes forward isn’t even how we properly use the main five ones, either. Our second sight lets us see sounds and hear shapes, feel the shape of the smell of food… it’s kind of actually really confusing, if I bother thinking about it.”

“Instinct?” Elise offered, thinking. “I’ve got the same thing, from training. How I can  _ taste _ the tension in the air. How I  _ feel _ someone’s eyesight on me. Even strong smells can almost feel like getting hit in the face, if you’re not prepared.”

“That’s it exactly,” Desmond said, snapping his fingers lightly. “But our second sight is like, taking that, and making it  _ more _ . On a scale from one to ten, Eagle Vision puts us at a base of thirteen. And from what Ratonhnhaké:ton said, and what Altair knows, it gets stronger and more complex the more we use it.”

“Like assigning colors to things,” Elise said. “Which make no sense, honestly. Why are enemies red and allies blue? Why are important things golden, and information white?”

Desmond laughed. “I have no idea, don’t ask me. And it’s not even like they’re properly  _ colors _ , either. It’s just the easiest way they’re translated.”

Elise scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Assassins.” She paused lightly, and looked down at Desmond with a raised eyebrow. “And how did we get to this conversation anyways? I thought I just asked you what your second sight looked like to you.”

“Well, I told you it was both a hard and easy question to answer,” Desmond said, grinning up at her. “Not my fault you didn’t believe me.”

“Brat,” Elise said, and hit Desmond gently on the side of his head. “Are you going to answer me or not?”

“Fine, fine,” Desmond said. He hummed as he thought about it. “It’s- my second sight is kind of like Ezio, he’s shared his second sight with you, in that the people are lit up. But it’s not like they’re lanterns, it’s like… it’s bioluminescent?”

“Well then,” Elise said, as Desmond shared an image of what bioluminescence exactly was with her. “You’re not sure, though?”

Desmond shrugged. “I mean, that’s the best way to describe it, I think. Everyone glows kind of softly. Not like they’re lanterns, but… you know how if you put your hand to a flashlight, it glows through you?”

“Yes,” Elise said. They had some rather fun experiments regarding that. Aveline was so much darker skinned than Elise, but still the effect worked for them, as if they were the ones to do so. How, they had no idea, but they honestly stopped questioning the nature of their bond years ago.

“Yeah, like that,” Desmond said. “All shimmery and bioluminescent and stuff. That’s how my Eagle Vision works.”

“Huh,” Elise said. “Thanks for answering.”

“Not a problem,” Desmond said easily, “You going to ask the others?”

“Yeah,” Elise said, nodding. “It’s interesting.”

0o0o0

Aveline bit her lip, feeling the faint pain of her healing still healing scar, and watched Gerard. He was her best friend, and they had known each other for more than a decade now. They were both Assassins, for all that Gerard only had the minimal amount of physical training, and did not wear a hidden blade. She trusted him with her life, and her secrets.

Nearly all of them.

“It’ll be fine,” Altair assured her. In the back of her mind, she felt the others’ faith, and all of their well wishes.

“I know,” Aveline said, “It’s still kind of hard to tell him. Not when I haven’t told him for as long as we’ve known each other.”

“It’s hard, telling someone you love something so incredibly important about yourself,” Altair said.

“Is that why you didn’t tell anyone and made them demand you tell them?” Aveline asked dryly. Malik and Kadar, especially. And  _ Elise _ was the one that told Altair to tell Rauf.

“No,” Altair denied after a pause, “But I didn’t  _ not _ do that either.”

Aveline giggled, and ran her hand over her hair, feeling the wooden beads she had taken to wearing lately. “Right. I can do this.”

She walked forward, stepping loudly so that Gerard wasn’t startled by her presence. Or, well, loudly for an Assassin, anyways. It was polite, when they weren’t working, to let other Assassins know that they were coming. Apparently civilians still couldn’t hear them regardless.

“Aveline?” Gerard asked, blinking at her as he was taken from his work. “Did you need something?”

Aveline took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “Gerard, I need to tell you something.”

0o0o0

  
  



	14. I May Fall 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 5 of desmond's story!
> 
> we're getting close to the end of his stay in abstergo. if things are confusing... well, i hope that when i get to the point, it'll be a good retrospect thing.
> 
> this story is still incredibly self-indulgent and i'm doing what i want here, but i do like getting comments and stuff from people!
> 
> ps, they've been bonded since they were 8. that kind of connection does stuff since they're just starting to develop and grow

Day six, and Desmond was… not doing well. He wasn’t doing badly, he felt, but it definitely wasn’t going well. He had a headache that came from using the Animus constantly, a sharp stinging pain that started at the base of his neck.

He had been confused as to its location until he realized that was where his neck rested on the Animus. The machine did read his brain waves and kept his body still while he used it.

Day six, and he figured he’d just ‘wake up’ when they told him to, and spent his time visiting literally anyone else.

“How are you doing, Elise?” Desmond asked, watching her as she worked on something at her desk.

She wore her sword and her pistol, even in the supposed safety of her home. That was troubling, though understandable with recent events.

“Are you really asking  _ me _ that?” Elise asked, eyebrow raised, “We’ve been all getting echoes of your headache, you know.”

“It’s why I’m asking,” Desmond said dryly, smiling faintly. “Focus on something else and all that. Besides, I realized that because I’m dealing with my entire… situation, I haven’t really been paying attention. And you seemed stressed.”

Elise smiled softly at him. “Thank you for worrying. I’ve mostly just been stressed, dealing with the whole attempted coup and all. And Arno has been…” Elise trailed off, and rubbed at her eyes. She accidentally smeared some ink along her cheek. “Anyways, just focus on yourself.”

“I’d really rather not until they come and grab me,” Desmond admitted, and rubbed his arms.

“Oh,” Elise said, her brow furrowed. She glanced at her papers and then back up at Desmond. And, near silently, the others all arrived, their own work in hand.“Well, stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said. He smiled at his other selves. He savored the warm feelings they were sending him. “Sorry. I know you all had something else you were supposed to be doing.”

“Oh, shut up Desmond,” Elise said gently, and rolled her eyes. “You are  _ ours _ , and you’d do the same for us.”

-

_ For all that Altair had a coup planned, he still followed the orders that Al Mualim handed him. Most of it was to keep attention off of him, for it would do no one good if the Eagle of Masyaf was seen disobeying orders. Part was to investigate for what reasons  _ these _ nine men were chosen to be killed. _

_ Like always, it was a power play. Each man, disgusting and worth killing on their own regardless of affiliation, each told Altair more of what he had already suspected. Al Mualim had their treasure, the Apple of Eden, and wished for no one else who knew of it to live. _

_ Altair completed the assignments, yes. But he did them quietly, in the shadows, so that no one knew who killed them. For the past century, since Masyaf was founded, the Order of Assassins worked liberally and freely. They were meant to be a beacon of hope, so that the people could see them working, and knew that they were defended. _

_ But that purpose had been lost since then; they were no more than mercenaries, now. It was not a bad life, for they still strived to teach others, and to lead them to self-realization. But it was not the way that they should remain. _

_ Altair, son of Umar and Maud, was the Eagle of Masyaf. History would say that he was the Mentor that led to the rebirth of the Assassin Order, giving it the shape that it would follow for the next millennium. Few would know that he had seven other selves that would shape it along with him. _

_ Even less would know he walked with seven others at his side. _

-

Desmond blinked tiredly at Lucy, who handed him his food. It was another long day. Vidic had him in the Animus until dinner time today, and he certainly  _ felt _ it. It bled to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who was leaning tiredly against his shoulder, and chewing absentmindedly on some jerky.

“You need to eat, Desmond,” Lucy said worriedly, looking him once over.

“Okay,” Desmond agreed, because he really did need to eat. He ate his sandwich mechanically.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked.

Desmond swallowed and thought how to answer. May as well go for honesty, there really wasn’t much reason not to. “I’m exhausted, actually. It’s hard to keep track of time, and I’ve been getting headaches alongside forgetting which language I’m speaking. And Altair’s memories are…  _ much _ clearer than some of my own.”

Part of it had to be the Bleeding Effect- the headaches were proof enough. But he couldn’t discount the fact that he had been cramming near days and weeks worth of memories in his head at once, vivid in the way only the Animus could provide.

And they were all of  _ important _ moments, as Altair lived and learned and decided that the coup was the only way to go. If Desmond had a way to use his second sight when viewing the memories as a  _ memory _ rather than living through it, he was certain that they’d be golden.

Lucy looked at him, brow furrowed.

“Was I speaking English?” Desmond asked tiredly. He did not like not being able to tell which language he was speaking at any given time. It had been literally more than a decade since any of them had trouble with it.

“You were,” Lucy confirmed. “Though you did have an odd accent, of sorts. I was just worried about what you were going through.”

“That’s good,” Desmond said. Odd accent? He looked to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who shrugged, but nodded at his unspoken question. Huh. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn’t speak a language from either Europe or Asia as a first language. To those unfamiliar with it, Desmond supposed it would cause an odd accent. “The language thing, I mean, not… everything else.”

“I understood what you meant,” Lucy said, smiling faintly. “I’ll find you some painkillers for the headache.”

“Abstergo has a pharmaceutical company attached, I sure hope you can find me some good pain meds,” Desmond said dryly. Lucy laughed lightly at the tone. Yay. Brownie points.

“Altair is heading to Masyaf now,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said quietly, looking to Desmond. “We’re getting closer. I don’t know what will happen to you, here, since it’s likely to coincide with when you’re in the Animus.”

Desmond closed his eyes, and pressed closer to Ratonhnhaké:ton. Yeah, he didn’t know either.

-

_ Robert de Sable was no idiot; he saw what was happening to his allies, and knew that he was on the list to be killed next. Altair may have made certain that the general populace didn’t know that Masyaf or Assassins were behind the deaths, but Sable knew of them already. _

_ Still, having a body double sent to the funeral was something else. And cowardly, if a smart move overall. But the double, whose name he didn’t know, was an impressive swordsman. But though they were an enemy, they were not the blinding red of Sable. _

_ Altair spared their life. It was to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, out of respect of their skill, and also because they were not his target. _

_ “Altair, he plans to ride to Richard and point him to Masyaf!” Malik hissed in worry, when Altair returned to the Bureau that evening. He didn’t care to be quiet. The Assassins here were trusted, and knew of their plans. _

_ Altair breathed harshly through is teeth. They were to move in a couple of weeks time. None of them could afford another attack on Masyaf so close to their planned coup. Most of their resources had to be put towards recovery afterwards. _

_ “We must ride to King Richard,” Evie said quickly, brow furrowed. “History paints him as reasonable. He will hear you out.” _

_ “I will go to meet the King, then,” Altair said to Malik. He shook his head when Malik looked ready to argue. “No. You must continue to prepare here, and I will ride out. There is enough time for me to do both.” _

_ Malik sneered, but Altair knew better than to take it to heart. The worry was obvious. “You are a fool, Altair. But we don’t have the capability to worry about an attack. Go, with my blessing. I will finalize everything here.” _

_ “Safety and peace, Malik,” Altair said. _

_ “Safety and peace,” Malik repeated. _

-

Desmond did his quick walk around the main room. He felt listless. He had been kidnapped for a week total, if he counted the travel time from New York to Rome. Desmond trusted his captains and the people he had left behind, but he still worried. The communication circuit between them was strong; no one should be drastically worried about him just disappearing.

That didn’t mean he still didn’t worry. Especially for  _ Nonna _ , who was getting to be so  _ old _ , no matter that she had a strong heart and an even stronger personality. All of her children were elsewhere, leaving her alone in that apartment… Desmond shook his head. He wasn’t compartmentalizing as well as he should.

Altair arrived in Masyaf tomorrow. The Animus compressed time; what took minutes of travel was actually days, if not weeks, of travel in reality. It was strange to realize that he had practically relived the last few months in only a few days. Harsh on his brain and his sense of time, but also just really completely strange.

“You need to rest,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. “Go to bed, Desmond.”

“You too,” Desmond said, looking him over. Ratonhnhaké:ton was dealing with a revolution, after all. “But yeah, time for bed.”

-

“Whoo, day seven, let’s have it for day seven of my stint as a kidnapped bartender in Abstergo Industries,” Desmond said cheerfully the next morning. He went to grab his breakfast, which was an actual omelet, alongside a muffin and juice. Nice!

“Good morning, Desmond,” Lucy said flatly, though her eyes were amused. “What a wonderful introduction today.”

Desmond shrugged, and when he got closer to his breakfast, he smelled…  _ coffee _ . “Oh my god, Lucy, good morning, I love you, I will have your babies for you,” Desmond said, grabbing the cup.

He refrained from actually chugging it, but it was a close thing. He was actually rather proud about it. At least he still had some measure of self control still.

Lucy actually laughed at him. Yay! He ignored Vidic in the corner, who sneered at him. Yeah, fuck you too you asshole. Desmond didn’t care about you.

He bravely refrained from flipping him off. Which was even more impressive than not chugging hot coffee. Yeah, Desmond’s self control today was  _ great _ , thank you for asking.

“Desmond, if I didn’t know better, I would say that you’re  _ drunk _ ,” Lucy said.

Desmond held the cup of coffee like it was the most precious treasure imaginable. How had he not realized he missed coffee this much?

Desmond looked seriously at her. “Lucy, I have a headache, I’m mentally and physically exhausted, I’m confusing my languages, and I swear I had a nightmare in which the walls were painted with blood. I drank water from the tap last night, so either your water is drugged, which is likely considering you kidnapped me, or somehow you managed to change your water line with a magically tasteless moonshine. But what do I know?”

Desmond knew a lot, actually. He was a bartender and he was rather proud of his position. Having dexterity training helped a lot when he started out, because it drastically cut off the training time. But Desmond had no idea that learning flair bartending would actually help the other way around either. He could proudly say that he had the best accuracy with throwing knives of the eight of them, and it all had to do with bartending.

“You’re exhausted-drunk, not actually drunk,” Evie said amusedly. She would be taking the first shift with him that morning. Depending on how long it was, she would either stay with him the entire day, or switch with Elise. “Though I do find that you act the same regardless. At least you’re cheerful today, instead of despondent.”

Lucy paled when he mentioned the blood on the walls. Whoops. Tired Desmond didn’t care though. Evie rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Ah. That’s concerning,” Lucy managed.

“It was some real horror movie stuff,” Desmond agreed. Because it wasn’t just the blood on the walls Sixteen had left. It was like the walls were bleeding too. Really kind of creepy.

He mournfully put the coffee down to grab his omelet. Ooooh, it had sausage and ham as well as bell peppers. Nice.

Desmond eyed Lucy thoughtfully. Hm. It’d take a lot of work in medical advancements, but Abstergo industries did have some pretty cool medical projects going on. And that was even ignoring that they were run by rich old people with delusions of godhood. Desmond wouldn’t mind having Lucy’s babies. They’d be real pretty. And smart.

“No, Desmond,” Evie said, biting her lip to stifle her laughter. The edge of her voice was filled with worry, but Evie didn’t actually bring it up. Desmond was  _ only _ tired, after all.

“We’re getting close to what you’re looking for, aren’t we?” Desmond asked Lucy. “It sort of feels like we’re getting close.”

Completely ignoring the fact that Altair was going to reach Masyaf later that day, of course. Their lives were like a movie anyways, might as well follow all the genre tropes. A coup was like the perfect big finale in Desmond’s life right now.

Lucy hummed and looked over the monitor. “Yes, we are getting closer to the memory that we need. I’d say, following the rate you’ve been going, that you’ll reach it by either the end of the day or early tomorrow.”

“End of the day, for certain,” Desmond said assuredly. If not, he’d be more concerned with how slowly Altair traveled, honestly.

“Are you going to push yourself?” Lucy asked worriedly. She glanced to where Vidic was, and said more quietly, “You don’t have to do that, Desmond. You have to take care of yourself.”

“As much as I can, anyways,” Desmond said, shrugging.

Not much he could really do when he was continually forced into the Animus. He grabbed his juice and chugged it. The coffee… well, he’d savor that for as long as possible.

Lucy, despite her worry, smiled in understanding as he gripped his coffee closer. Ah, yes, she  _ would _ understand the need for caffeine, wouldn’t she? Desmond hoped they knew he’d be perfectly willing to attack them if they tried to stop him from drinking it before he finished.

-

_ Altair and Malik were meant to be in Masyaf, when they started. Their people were meant to be there, to smooth things over. They had meant to gather all of the information that they had gathered over the past couple of months, detailing why Al Mualim was no longer fit to be the Mentor of the Levantine Brotherhood. _

_ Despite the violence they expected, they did their best to make it as bloodless as possible. These were their  _ people _. _

_ Killing Robert de Sable was easy, if tiring. Eight against one wasn’t  _ really _ only against one, when Altair had seven other selves fighting alongside him. It was a fight that left Altair injured, yes, but very handily victorious. It was a death that settled Altair, as he avenged the injuries laid upon Malik and Kadar. And that he protected Masyaf from this particular attack. _

_ Talking with King Richard was… enlightening, to put it mildly. He was a sensible king, all told. _

_ Altair actually enjoyed debating philosophy with him for the single night that Altair remained in camp. That he had been treated as an honored guest despite it all said something, Altair felt. What, he didn’t quite know, but he knew better than to question such good fortune. _

_ Since Sable was the last of the nine Al Mualim had sent Altair to kill, his return to Masyaf should have been simple. He would report of his completed assignment, and then head to the healing halls to tend to his wounds. There he would wait until Malik and the other Assassins that Altair had gathered from the Bureaus made it to Masyaf. _

_ “Something is  _ wrong _ ,” Ezio hissed, watching the fortress with golden eyes. “Can you feel it?” _

_ Altair stared up the mountains. “I do,” he said simply. _

_ The fortress was bathed in smoke, golden-important and red-enemy both. But the way that the red swirled… it felt artificial, almost. Like coercion and torture. _

_ ‘How dare he.’ the eagle within Altair screeched in outrage. It echoed through all of them. It was a call to arms. ‘ _ How dare he. _ ’ _

_ “The Apple,” Aveline breathed, staring in horror. “Al Mualim has used the Apple on everyone in Masyaf.” _

_ Malik was still several hours away. Altair could feel him, distantly, and was relieved to feel that he was closing the distance. Kadar- _

_ “Kadar is in there,” Altair said. Kadar, and Rauf, the novices and journeymen, and Isra, the Sisters, and all the women of the gardens. They all let out several low curses. _

_ “Did he suspect that we were planning something?” Elise asked. _

_ “No, he couldn’t have,” Ezio said, and shook his head. _

_ “It had to be the Apple,” Evie said grimly, “We already know that it has an extreme negative influence on people.” _

_ “Al Mualim is a Templar,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “Regardless of what that means to us, we know what it means to  _ him _.” _

_ “Ambition for power, compounded with the Apple’s influence…” Elise trailed off. _

_ Altair closed his eyes, and spread his awareness as far as he could over Masyaf. It was easier, here, where he had been born and raised. He knew the shapes of the stones, and the wind. He knew the people, and the animals. _

_ There, blue, hiding and small, but still there. _

_ “There are people in there that have not been ensnared,” Altair said, opening his eyes. Now that he was aware, he could see past the red smoke and to the heart of the blue. It was small, but it was  _ there _. _

_ “We aren’t just throwing a coup anymore,” Desmond said, stepping forward to grab Altair’s hand. “We are fighting for our free will.” _

_ “Yes,” Altair said. _

_ He eyed the outside of the walls. Al Mualim did not have the awareness that Altair did, but he had decades of experience over him. And with the Apple, he would know the moment that Altair entered Masyaf, if he wasn’t already aware that he was there. _

_ “Al Mualim would have planned for you,” Aveline said, stepping up to him to grab his other hand. The others all pressed closer, gathering their collective strength. “But he did not plan for  _ us _.” _

_ “No,” Altair said grimly, “He did not.” _

-

_ They walked up to Masyaf, all eight of them in unison. Wings non-existent wrapped around them, connecting their eight bodies, their souls resonating with each other. Their hearts and minds focused on this singular task. _

_ This was their territory. Masyaf was theirs. The Eagle of Masyaf was the only Eagle here, but they were also only one Eagle of many. And Masyaf was the heart of their territory. It was time to clear it of their enemies, and rid the land of trespassers. Those that were previously allowed were no longer welcome, their presence poisoning the land instead of bolstering it. _

_ As they walked to the gates, they paused. Together, they would enter and face what was to come, as was right. But they turned to the one, two, bodies that were needed elsewhere. They did not like this, sending two of themselves out, but needs must. To go willingly would save them the trouble that would arise if they were taken forcefully. _

_ “We will be here, still,” they said, “though we do not know how it will work. We  _ will _ be here.” _

_ “Yes,” they agreed. _

_ With that, they, the two that would be working on their own, distant but not separate, turned on their heels. It took only a thought to shift to where their body was being held. _

-

“Desmond, your break is over,” Lucy said quietly. She glanced at Vidic, who watched them angrily and impatiently.

They reviewed the last few minutes, lived distantly but recorded all the same. Ah, yes. Lucy and Vidic had been telling them to get back to work. They had been with themselves, and had ignored Lucy and Vidic.

“Desmond?” Lucy asked worriedly, looking up at them.

They looked to her, confused. “Yes?” they asked.

“...do you recognize me, Desmond?” Lucy asked.

They, Desmond, raised an eyebrow. They looked to them, Evie, who also looked confused at the question. “Of course I do, Lucy,” Desmond said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Lucy relaxed minutely. “No particular reason. You just weren’t acting normally.”

Desmond blinked at her, and then looked to Evie again. Yes, that did make sense. The eight of them normally didn’t allow their walls down so thoroughly. It blended their personalities and collective perception, and made them all act oddly to those that knew them. It was because they were all incredibly stubborn  _ individuals  _ that they didn’t keep their walls down more often.

“I’m myself, I promise,” Desmond said.

Even if it would take only the barest of thoughts for Desmond and Evie to return to the others. Though, Lucy was perhaps worried about the Bleeding Effect? That made sense. If one weren’t aware of the eight of them, it would be very easy to confuse the two. Especially since all of their thoughts were currently directed at Masyaf.

“I’m glad,” Lucy said softly. She had become more and more blue over the last couple of days, Altair noted. She truly did care about Desmond, even if she was using him.

Ah, there it was. Desmond was more settled into himself, though their collective bond was still incredibly wide open. It would be so  _ easy _ to return to the others, but Desmond had a task to do. Even if it was one he would rather not do at all.

“Hurry up, Mister Miles,” Vidic said, glaring impatiently at him. “We don’t have all day now.”

“If you’re ready, Desmond,” Lucy said, and went back to her spot at the Animus monitor.

Desmond and Evie shared a glance. They were as ready as they would ever be. Desmond sighed and followed after Lucy.

0o0o0

_ Altair _ walked through the gates of the village, filled with trepidation.

It was too quiet. There weren’t any of the usual sounds. No chickens, no dogs barking, no sounds of work as people moved around. He couldn’t hear the shriek of children, or the footsteps of the people as they walked. Nothing. It was just… silent.

He walked forward, senses strained as he tried to figure out what was going on. It took several minutes of cautious walking, but he saw a villager as he reached the main square. But other than that singular person, everywhere else was simply… empty.

He walked up to the villager. “What happened here?” he asked softly. It was hard to break the unnatural silence. “Where is everyone?”

“Gone to see the Master,” the villager said simply. He sounded… normal? As if today was just another day.

“Was it the Templars?”  _ Altair _ asked. Had there been an attack? That would explain why there was no one there. Though, if they did,  _ Altair _ didn’t see any signs of a battle. “Did they attack again?”

“They walk the path,” the villager said.

“What path?”  _ Altair _ asked, “What are you talking about?”

“The path towards the light,” the villager said, awe in his voice.

“What?”

“There is only what the Master shows us. This is the truth.” the villager said, as if reciting scripture.

“You’ve lost your mind,”  _ Altair _ said, and shook his head.

The villager looked at him. “You too will walk the path. Or you will perish. So the Master commands.”

“It was Al Mualim, wasn’t it?”  _ Altair _ demanded. He had expected the betrayal, and yet it still hurt. “What has he done to you?”

“Praise be to the Master, for he has led us to the light!” the villager exclaimed.

...Useless.  _ Altair _ moved past the man, intent on making it to the fortress. Even as he got closer, the village remained empty. Where was everyone?

“The will of the Master must be obeyed,” the villager said.

_ Altair _ glanced back at him, and saw that the singular villager had been joined by others. As they gathered, so did the nonsense they said.

“Only speak, Master, and show us the path.”

“Al Mualim! Guide us! Command us!”

“What is wrong with you?”  _ Altair _ demanded, speaking despite himself. “Your minds are your own, why do you beg for guidance when you can make your own decisions? Why have you now decided to ask Al Mualim for said guidance, when Masyaf had stood for years before without it?”

“We cannot stray from the path,” a villager said, voice distant.

_ Altair _ looked around. Their faces were all the same. Blank, and distant, and they moved listlessly as if… very carefully, he refrained from throwing up. An actual attack would be preferable to this. It was as if the souls of the villagers had been stolen.

This was… No.  _ Altair _ refused to let this stand. He ran past the villagers and up the path that led to the fortress. Al Mualim would pay for what he had done.

_ Altair _ would not allow any less.

0o0o0

  
  



	15. I May Fall 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 6 of desmond's story. 1 of 2 chapters posted today.

Lucy watched as Desmond settled into the Animus. Watching the process as his body settled into its imitation REM cycle and his mind was connected to the Animus program was… something. It always was something. It was a near instantaneous process from when the mind was booted into the program to the body settling. It was less like falling asleep and more like passing out.

“Alright, Desmond, we’re loading up the most recent memory now,” Lucy said, and pulled up the relevant file.

_ “Okay. Here we go, then.” _ Desmond said, through the monitor.

Lucy watched apprehensively as the memory loaded. There was always those few moments between loading and actually entering the memory that were touch and go. It was an issue that was unique to Desmond; Clay and the other subjects were just dropped right into the memory, no problem.

Desmond on the other hand was nearly disconnected from the memories, as if he was rejecting what was shown to him. Lucy was just glad that Desmond had found a work around, however he managed that.

The Animus loaded the memory, and her screen entered its monitoring stage. A corner of a screen was dedicated to Desmond, as Altair, as he moved around the memory. The rest was cataloguing information and body vitals. Lucy had gotten ridiculously good at typing up timestamps as the memory happened live.

Warren  _ hmmph _ -ed at his desk, where he had his own monitor. Lucy was nominally in charge of gathering information from Desmond. Warren took notes about the Assassins that they otherwise didn’t have. This may have been a thousand years ago, but Assassins were such traditionalists that they still held ideas from the Crusades. And to defeat their enemies, they had to know them.

Not that Lucy wasn’t completely in awe that she was watching  _ Altair Ibn-La’Ahad _ , of course. Despite everything that happened since she joined Abstergo and the Templars, Lucy  _ had  _ been born into the Order. She knew her important historical figures. This was Altair, who would become one of the most famous Assassins in history.

And Desmond was descended from him. From quite a few different important Assassins, actually. His bloodline was impressive, and finding him had been a stroke of immense luck.

Or, bad luck on Desmond’s part. He had managed to stay under the radar for a decade, which spoke of his skill, and level of training. Lucy understood, though. It was hard to shake the training that had been given to them since they were born. And as the only child of the current Mentor of the Assassins, it made sense that the training Desmond received was a bit more  _ intense _ than what Lucy did.

Desmond… he was interesting.

He seemed to roll with the punches, but Lucy had watched the security footage they had of him. Desmond had studied the room he was in, as well as the street outside, obviously casing the building from what limited access he had. If Lucy wasn’t going to break him out, she wouldn’t be surprised if he did it himself.

The fact that Desmond was exhausted and Bleeding, and yet had the determination and patience to wait for an escape… Lucy respected competency enough that she couldn’t help but  _ want _ to see what Desmond would do. She knew what Abstergo security was like, but even then she wasn’t certain that Desmond  _ wouldn’t _ fail.

It was dangerous, this quiet affection she had for him. It hadn’t even been a week, but Desmond had proven to be interesting. Working to gain his trust wasn’t a hardship; Lucy hadn’t had to feign liking him.

For all that he claimed to not be an Assassin, Lucy had  _ seen _ his reaction when he first woke up from the Animus, even as Warren dismissed his anger as childish. Desmond was furious, yes, but the way he tracked their movement, and the way that he studied them both… those weren’t the reactions of someone that had spent the last decade trying to forget their childhood. Sure, some things were hard to shake, but it also wasn’t hard to lose the habit of daily training either.

Then there was the fact that he always seemed to be lost in thought. Even when he was talking and interacting with Lucy, it was as if there was always something else he was avoiding. Like he was seeing and hearing something else, and only ignored it to speak with her. Lucy would like to pin the blame entirely on the Bleeding Effect, but that wasn’t entirely possible.

Though if Desmond already experienced hallucinations, then it was likely he didn’t bother mentioning that he had  _ more _ . He already admitted to having headaches and confusing his languages. Lucy had made sure that they allowed him more breaks than they did Clay, but it had been a week already. And Desmond had the clearest memories that they’d ever seen… she wouldn’t be surprised if he had hallucinations about Altair.

Lucy hummed in thought and turned her attention back to the monitor. Altair had made it to Masyaf after killing Robert de Sable, and would soon be confronting Al Mualim. Then the Apple would activate and show them the map that they needed.

Altair was a ruthless fighter and killer, no matter that he had relearned kindness and mercy the past few months. It was amazing to the see the transition from that incredibly arrogant man from Solomon’s Temple, to this man who moved with purpose, but also caution and humility.

Though he treated civilians and ‘innocents’ with more respect than either Lucy or Warren had expected in the beginning, he still treated his fellow Assassins as if they were beneath him, no matter how politely he spoke. If Lucy hadn’t watched it herself, she wouldn’t believe how drastically Altair had changed.

Lucy kept taking her notes, and kept an eye on what Desmond was doing in the Animus. She wasn’t much for history, but even she had to admit that watching what life was like near one thousand years ago was fascinating. Warren didn’t much care, so focused on what he needed to do here in the present, but Lucy was drawn in.

A slight beeping sound took her attention from her work. Lucy frowned and searched for it; that was the Animus alert. It meant something needed her immediate attention, but wasn’t quite an emergency. Strange, Desmond had been doing so well lately…

Lucy blinked at the warning. What did it mean, Desmond was desynchronized? She looked- and yes, the monitor still clearly showed Altair moving through Masyaf. The villagers, their minds controlled by the Apple, were creepy, yes, but it was business as usual. There was no way that they would be able to see the memory if Desmond  _ wasn’t _ synchronized…

She pressed the call button. “Desmond, can you hear me?” she tried, even as she felt it would be useless. Desmond ignored anyone and everything but the memory. Lucy hadn’t minded, since it meant he was focused on staying synched. But it wouldn’t hurt to just check in…

Nothing. The warning kept beeping. Lucy stared at it, confused, before sighing and dismissing it entirely. It was likely just a bug. She made a note to tell the tech team and returned to notating the memory.

0o0o0

_ Masyaf was empty. _

_ They strained their senses, using their second sight and all of their training to keep an eye on their surroundings. This was their territory, but their enemy had spent years gathering his power over this place. First, as the Mentor, and secondly, as he succumbed to the temptation the Apple provided. _

_ But Masyaf was empty. They could not feel the familiar presences of the villagers, nor hear any of the usual sounds. It wasn’t just the lack of people that bothered them, now. It was the fact that they couldn’t hear any animals. No chickens, no dogs, not even horses. It was as if Masyaf had been abandoned. _

_ And yet they were intimately aware of each and every single person that still stood. They were either in the fortress itself, or clustered near the base of the mountain where the village met the path upwards. _

_ When they reached the main square, which would lead to the path that led up to the fortress, they saw a singular villager. He stood there, as if nothing was wrong, and as if he was just enjoying the brisk weather. This close, they could see the neutral-white that they were so used to smothered by the red that centered around his head. That must be where the Apple controlled him. _

_ “Should we speak with him?” they asked. _

_ “Yes,” they said, thoughtful, “If only to see what Al Mualim has bid him to think, and to say.” _

_ “Knowing what our enemy thinks will be useful,” they agreed. _

_ They walked forward, cautiously. This was not their enemy, no matter that their enemy had him. They would do their best to limit the amount of violence. _

_ “What happened here?” they asked, “Where is everyone?” _

_ “They have all gone to see the Master,” the villager said simply. He sounded… normal. The smoke around his head billowed as he spoke, as if it exerted control. _

_ “Why?” they asked. “There hasn’t been an attack, has there?” _

_ “They walk the path,” the villager said. _

_ “What path?” they asked, “What are you talking about?” _

_ “The path towards the light,” the villager said, awe in his voice, as if he had seen something truly wondrous. It was unnerving, how simply he acted. _

_ They frowned. The light? “What?” _

_ “There is only what the Master shows us. This is the truth,” the villager said. It was as if he recited scripture. _

_ They swallowed. They knew this was happening, but to have it so simply laid out in front of them… “You have lost your mind,” they said softly. _

_ The villager looked to them. They stiffened when they saw that red smoke swirl violently, as more control was placed upon him. “You too will walk the path. Or you will perish. So the Master commands.” _

_ “So,” they, those that were unseen by everyone else, said, “This means that Al Mualim has continuous control over the villagers, if he can send messages.” _

_ “It is likely through them that he can see us,” they said grimly, “His literal eyes and ears, spread over the fortress.” _

_ “I wonder, does he think that we won’t be able to  _ hide  _ now?” they asked, darkly amused. They spared the brief thought to be amused and insulted that Al Mualim even dared to think so. _

_ “I am sorry,” they said to the villager, hoping,  _ wishing _ , to reach the soul that was trapped within the red smoke, “that Al Mualim has done this to you. Have faith, still. I will free you.” _

_ They felt several more villagers arriving, watching. They were not trained to fight, these villagers, and they would easily defeat them. _

_ But Al Mualim held their reigns, and though their bodies were not trained, much of an Assassin’s skill was mental. It might ruin their bodies, as they were not meant for such movement, but they would be more dangerous regardless. _

_“It is time to hide, if Al Mualim is so determined to keep us in his sights,” they said brightly, amusedly, finding the humor despite the situation. “It’s simply too bad that we have absolutely_ no way _of knowing if we are seen, isn’t it?”_

_ They shifted their awareness, not from the overwhelming sense of the fortress and its people, but to the awareness of others instead. Smoke remained, but dissipated so that the circles that made up the areas of awareness took precedence. _

_ Without warning, they sprinted off, going left and up. Running,  _ flying _ , was easy, and fun. Even though they were going to hide, this was something that always made them feel better. Rare was it that an Assassin couldn’t literally run their troubles and worries away. _

_ Even though only one of them was required to move, they all went. Even if one wasn’t meant to move like this, they followed along, willingly, moving in tandem with the group. Even though two were away, doing a different task, they reached- _

-And then, together. All eight of them ran through Masyaf. Their footsteps were silent, and their breathing aligned. The wings that didn’t exist spread from their backs, and to each other, and through each other, and they all ran in unison.

It didn’t take them long to find a hiding spot. They turned to the two that had returned to them, and gripped each others’ hands, and arms. Touch was not required when their souls were bared so clearly to each other, but it didn’t need to be required to be wanted.

“You are here,” they said, smiling brightly.

“Yes,” they returned. “We, six, were running, and we, two, wished to be here.”

“We, two, do not know how it will be viewed where we are kept, but until we are forced back, we will remain here,” they said.

“Good,” they said firmly. “We will all be needed for the upcoming fight. Al Mualim will not expect us, but we must not underestimate what the Apple can do.”

“No, we musn’t,” they said grimly, “We have seen what the Shroud can do, and that was only to heal its wearer’s body from injury. The Apple is meant for so much more, and as such, is more dangerous.”

“We will be cautious,” they said, “But that doesn’t mean that we our not dangerous ourselves.”

“We must move,” they said, blinking golden eyes at what they saw past the walls. “Al Mualim is not a fool, nor is he weak. We have the upper hand, but that will not remain if we are too prideful.”

They nodded. “Then let us go. We will be swift.”

They ran towards the ravine, where the river below ran. There were platforms down there, leading to caverns that existed beneath the fortress. Although the caves had been expanded as they were found, the formation itself was natural. Only the Assassins knew of the caverns themselves, as the inner entrance was found within the heart of the fortress. Even fewer knew of the platforms that existed on the outside.

It wasn’t an easy climb down, but it wasn’t hard, either. The rocks were slick with the spray from the river, but their leather gloves and boots gave them enough traction to move downwards. Once they were close enough, it was easy to leap for the nearest platform.

They blinked as they stood straight, staring into the cavern. It was but a thought to switch their second sight from the circles of awareness to their awareness of everyone in Masyaf. They couldn’t help but grin. It seemed that they had found their hidden allies.

Still, that was no reason to be hasty. The walked forward quietly and cautiously, glad that they had packed an extra first aid kit. It was likely that there were injured ahead.

“Altair!” a voice called, distorted by the echoes and the tone they spoke with.

They turned to the voice, and saw- “Rauf! You are well,” they said. They walked forward, and they clasped each other’s forearms.

“For a given value of well,” Rauf said dryly. His robes were splattered with blood, and he had a still bleeding cut along his temple.  Nothing to worry about, it seemed. It was already starting to clot. “I’m sorry to say that your triumphant return home has been waylaid by some rather troubling events.”

“Triumphant it still is,” they, Altair, said. “Robert de Sable is dead, and I have spoken with King Richard. He has come to know of us, yes, but knows we are not the enemy, and has agreed to leave us alone.”

“That is wonderful news,” Rauf said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Though I did not think that King Richard was a potential enemy.”

“Sable was no idiot, unfortunately,” Altair said, “But he has been dealt with, and I have another to handle here.”

Rauf eyed him, looking them over. Altair held still for his inspection; Rauf did not have any second sight, but he was perceptive all the same. He knew them, as  _ them _ , as Rauf was the first that they had introduced themselves to. “You are not Altair, are you?”

Altair shook their head. “Yes, and no. We, eight, are currently working as one. We, Altair, am leading.” They smiled wryly and said, “When things are not so dire, we will explain how we have come to refer to ourselves when we are together. You may refer to us as Altair, still.”

Rauf nodded in understanding. He motioned to the first aid kit that they carried. “It is good that you bring that, for we have injured. Nothing so disastrous that there is risk of death, but there are still some troublesome cases.”

They blinked, and they, Desmond, stepped forward since they were the one with the most advanced healing skills. “We will help, then. While we do, we can plan how to take care of Al Mualim.”

“Good,” Rauf said, and led them through the caverns. “We are hidden here for now. Al Mualim has taken control of the villagers easily, but the Assassins held on long enough that we were able to hide without being found.”

“That is good,” Desmond said, “We have seen the smoke that smothers the villagers. It is disgusting what has been done.”

“Yes,” Rauf agreed, grimacing. “It as if their very souls have been taken. I imagine that if you see it with your second sight, it is as gruesome as I imagine.”

“Not gruesome in visuals, but the implications remain,” Desmond said, shaking their head. Though if they focused too hard, they were sure that their second sight would interpret it as them  _ wanting _ more accurate representation. Which, no, they were good thanks.

“Let’s go,” Rauf said, “Lady Hawa is one of the two medics we have, and both are taking care of our injured. Kadar is there.”

“How is he?” Desmond asked. They immediately reached out with their awareness, and sighed in relief when they felt the familiar cool  _ blue _ of Kadar. Now that they registered his presence again, they would not lose his location.

“Scraped up, but otherwise fine,” Rauf assured, “The flight here aggravated his scars, but all he can do for it is rest.”

“That’s good,” and they closed their eyes in relief. Still, they moved forward, wanting to see Kadar with their own eyes.

“Altair!” Kadar said when they came to the small area that had been designated as the healing hall. They eyed him, noting everything. There was that sunflower yellow pain centered around his abdomen, but it was faint and already dissipating. Nothing was sickly-yellow.

“Stay down,” Desmond ordered. “You don’t need to be moving, if your scars are hurting.” They handed off the first aid kit to Hawa, who took it gratefully.

Kadar settled back into the blanket he had been using. Desmond stepped back to let Altair forward, and they gripped Kadar’s arm.

“I am glad you are here,” Kadar said. “Where’s Malik?”

“He is behind us,” Altair said quietly, “We had to make a detour ahead of time. But he and the others should be here soon.”

Kadar blinked at him, registering their presence as he always did. “Oh. You’re here?”

“Yes,” Altair said. “Do not worry. We will help with the injured here, and make plans. But Al Mualim will be taken care of.”

“I knew that,” Kadar said, and rolled his eyes. They smiled fondly at him.

“If you’re going to help,  _ help _ ,” Hawa said in a harsh whisper. Altair turned to her, and then Desmond stood up. If Hawa had bothered to speak at all, then they had best do as she wished.

“Where do you need us?” Desmond asked, walking to her.

-

“I do not like this,” Rauf said grimly. Only he and a couple of other Assassins were able to fight, and as such, help. “We are skilled, yes, but we are not much in the face of the rest of the Order.”

“That is why you will be distractions only,” Altair said. “Spend your energy wisely, and keep their attention on you.”

“While you go and confront the Master?” another Assassin asked, a high-ranking journeyman, and he fidgeted lightly in place. “Can you?”

Altair smiled at him. “Yes. I have my own talents that I have not used before.”

The other Assassin, another Master, eyed Altair and their collective weapons cooly, but nodded. “Something that Al Mualim will not expect, on top of your already known skill.”

“Yes,” Altair agreed, and once again checked all of their weapons.

They had taken Kadar’s sword, to dual wield. Rauf was well known as the  _ only _ one of the Masters that could actually fight with two swords. Elise, then, would be a surprise. They added another section of throwing knives, these ones settled at their hip in place of a couple of pouches they normally carried.

On their other hip was a coiled whip, something no one else here could use. Aveline would  _ definitely _ be a shock. Combined with the strength and skill that they would all be using, together, made Altair much more powerful than others had seen.

Rauf turned to the two Brothers. “We will act as if we are sneaking out of the fortress at first, before making ourselves known.” The other two Assassins nodded in understanding.

Altair closed their eyes, and  _ reached _ with their senses. They looked for that familiar  _ blue _ of their closest friend. Malik was closing in more quickly as he got closer to Masyaf. He likely could tell that something was wrong, and hurried the group he traveled with along.

“Malik and the Assassins he is traveling with are close by,” Altair said, “They will be here soon. Hold on till they arrive.” It might be prudent to wait for them, but that would also leave them open to attack. Altair refused to give Al Mualim the chance to enthrall them.

“That is good,” Rauf said, “Now, we will head out first. Wait five minutes before heading out.”

“Yes,” Altair agreed. They  _ focused _ on the three Assassins with their second sight, memorizing their presence and becoming, temporarily, permanently aware of them. Rauf was easy, as a close friend. The other two Assassins were familiar, Brothers they had known for years, but it took a couple of seconds to commit them to memory.

“Safety and peace, Altair,” Rauf said softly, and they gripped each other's forearms.

“Safety and peace,” Altair repeated, which echoed through them all. “Go, and may fortune favor your blade.”

Rauf and the other two Assassins nodded, and left silently through the entrance. Altair closed it quickly, and used their second sight to follow them through the fortress. Their heart was heavy with worry, but they trusted the others. They weren’t without skill, and they knew what was at stake. But still, their heart worried.

“They will be fine,” they said softly, “This is Rauf we’re talking about.”

“And the other two are good Brothers, as evidenced by their strength of will and their rank,” they added.

“We know this, but that doesn’t stop us from worrying,” Altair sighed.

“No, it doesn’t,” they agreed.

Altair closed their eyes, and counted. They felt Rauf and the other two make their way out of the fortress, swiftly and quietly. At this point, they would be seen whether or not they wished to be; none of them had the second sight, or the awareness of other people’s perception. But they would be going as far as they could before they made themselves known.

They felt it when Al Mualim’s controlled villagers saw them. It was as if the red smoke pointed at them, and the tendrils followed them. Even as the red smoke neared Rauf and the other two, it didn’t cling to them.

That meant that Al Mualim had to use the Apple in close proximity to a person to control them. That was something, at least. It meant that Rauf and Malik and the other Assassins would be safe from that attack.

Five minutes. Altair slipped out the door. They switched from using their broad awareness to the circles that alerted them of others’ perceptions. But they kept a mental eye on Rauf and the other two, and more distantly, Malik. Kadar was behind them, safe with the others.

It wasn’t hard to find Al Mualim. Even focused on keeping themselves hidden, their enemy was a blindingly bright red to their senses. It was like looking into the sun. Or perhaps into a raging fire, red and flickering. It was nothing like the usual cool and calm blue that they had seen for years and years. The change was drastic, and alarming, and they spared a second to mourn the man that had turned into  _ this _ .

“We must be careful,” they said mournfully, “for if this is what the Apple has done, then it is more dangerous than we already expected.”

Altair nodded. In the distance, they felt Rauf and the others fighting. The intensity of some of the presences said that the Assassins that had fallen under the thrall were also there.

“Malik is almost here,” they said.

In fact, it felt like Malik and the Assassins he brought with him were now climbing past the boundaries of Masyaf. Good. Rauf would need the help.

Al Mualim was standing on a balcony in the courtyard to the library. He held the Apple, which burned golden to their second sight.

Altair swallowed. They, eight, stood together and gathered their courage. They braced themselves from what was to come, and steadied each other. The eagle within their mind and heart screeched, a warning to their enemies.

It went against their instinct to make themselves known, silent and stealthy killers they were, but they stepped forward regardless.

0o0o0

  
  



	16. I May Fall 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 7 of desmond's story. 2 of 2 chapters posted today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we get lucy's POV, at the beginning and the ending of the 'finale' here. here we get altair becoming a Master, by internalizing a rather important thing.
> 
> oh yeah, the apple does something too.
> 
> i had some fun, and some trouble, writing how they fought together, blended... also because i'm just bad at writing combat lol.

“So you have come,” Al Mualim said.

His voice was nothing like the calm, wise, old man that they had known. Gone was the collected temperament, where even his bright temper was controlled through decades of experience. The show of emotion, even something negative, didn’t bother them.

Al Mualim was as human as they were, and emotions were important. No, it was the fact that he had lost all self-control to  _ show _ his emotions so plainly. This wasn’t even a calculated reaction, as some Assassins used to make their targets lose caution, but pure loss of emotional control.

“I’ve never been one to run,” Altair said dryly.

The Apple was there, golden and bright. It glowed like the lanterns of Desmond’s time, casting light on everything near. It hurt, almost, to look at it the way it was. It was almost hypnotizing in how the Apple created fractals around itself. Like a kaleidoscope.

Altair tore their attention away from the Apple and back to Al Mualim. It seemed the passive nature of the Apple itself was dangerous, not just when it was being used. They shored their mental defenses, preparing for when Al Mualim would attempt to use it on them. The old man frowned heavily, and stared at Altair.

So prepared to have that red smoke come for them, they weren’t prepared for golden light to  _ shine _ around their bodies, holding them firmly in place. Altair near panicked at the sensation, and struggled in place, trying to pull their body free. They felt the others doing the same, trying to pull them free; the light did not move.

“It’s not just a mental suggestion!” they said, continuously trying to free themselves, “We’d feel if it this was a compulsion to  _ not move _ . The light is actually here, holding us in place!”

“Fucking Pieces of Eden,” they growled, and pulled some more. But the light was not going anywhere.

Altair sighed, and relaxed in the hold. To their second sight, the light glowed bright red instead of the golden glow of the Apple. But, and this was important, it did nothing more than hold them in place. That wasn’t good, but it was better than the alternative.

They hadn’t taken their attention from Al Mualim or the Apple. But now that Altair relaxed, they returned their full focus to him. Al Mualim continued to frown at them, frustrated by something. They could use that, if it held.

“You’ve never been one to  _ listen _ , either,” Al Mualim said snidely.

And at that- they all paused momentarily, staring up at him incredulously. Oh, they knew themselves well enough to know that they were stubborn, and prideful, and oftentimes acted without thinking. They kept secrets they didn’t mean to, because there were eight of them, and if  _ they _ knew, then it wasn’t a secret.

But to imply that they never  _ listened _ ? Listening was how they remained themselves. How they remained connected. How the friendships they had developed in their individual lives were strong and long lasting. How they knew to trust people, and who needed help. How they learned secrets of others.

“I’m still alive because of it!” Altair returned.

They stared at each other. Al Mualim paced on top of the balcony, Apple in hand. And, as they watched, Altair realized something. The Apple may have taken Al Mualim’s hard-earned and long-lived self control, but everything that had happened here, everything that he had done… that was  _ Al Mualim _ . After all, he had sent them to Solomon’s Temple, where the Apple was.

“We chose to trust in him,” they said grimly, firmly, forcing all thoughts of guilt away. “He is the Mentor, and is old and wise, and has led the Order for decades. We chose to trust that he could resist the power that the Apple offered.”

Altair breathed in, and took their conviction, and held firm. They would not falter here. There was no room for doubt or hesitation.

“What will I do with you?” Al Mualim called down.

“Let me go,” Altair said.

“I think not,” Al Mualim said, “I hear bloodlust in your voice. Letting you go would be unwise of me, don’t you think?”

Oh, he had  _ no idea _ . Altair held their breath, even as they all started snarling threats, even as they continued to observe, looking for weaknesses and other potential advantages.

“Why are you doing this?” they asked instead.

“I have found proof,” Al Mualim declared.

“Proof of what?”

The Apple started to glow in his hand, more brightly than it had been previously. Al Mualim spoke with pride, and as if delivering some long held knowledge that he know imparted on the world. “That nothing is true, and everything is permitted!”

They all  _ stared _ at him, shock and disgust warring within them. Blasphemy. Assassins held fast to very few things, and their Creed was the most important one. For Al Mualim to take what led their lives, and to twist into this  _ thing _ -

Altair started struggling again, the eagle within their heart screeching in defiance. How dare he. How  _ dare _ he!

Al Mualim saw them, and raised the Apple. “Come. Destroy the betrayer. Send him from this world!”

The light that held Altair fast disappeared, and they stumbled before catching themselves. They stood tall, and pulled their sword, as they all pulled their weapons free. They looked around and nearly stumbled backwards in pure shock.

The nine! The nine Templars that they had been sent to kill. They circled Altair, drawing their own swords, and bloodlust in their eyes.

“An illusion!” they hissed, pressing closer. “The Apple has the power of illusions!”

“That doesn’t change much, here, does it?” they yelled in return. “I’m pretty sure  _ we _ are proof that your mind can hurt you if convinced to do so!”

There was a moment, and then a singular they stepped forward, weapon in hand. “Yes. And if this is literally all in our mind, then there is  _ nothing _ stopping us from hurting  _ them _ .”

Another pause, and Altair grinned as they felt the thought echo, and solidify, within them all. Oh, now that was definitely an idea. “Nothing is true, and everything is permitted,” they said brightly, and a bit maniacally.

Sure, why not. Desmond was currently strapped into a machine that let them live Altair’s memories out, but still found a way to be here with them. Why not have them interacting with illusions?

And so as they, Altair, readied themselves for the illusions to attack, the others rushed forward, weapons in hand. The illusions did not defend themselves in retaliation, as they expected, but instead took the blades to their guts. They all fell, and shattered into fragments like glass.

“That was easy,” they said dubiously.

“What?” Al Mualim demanded from above. “That’s not right!”

“He’s the one casting the illusions,” they said in dawning realization. “But that means he cannot  _ see us _ .” And then, as one, they all grinned. The impacts made certain that they could feel the illusions, yes, but they had an extreme advantage here.

“Why don’t you face me yourself?” Altair called, pointing their sword at Al Mualim in direct challenge and as a taunt. “Or are you  _ afraid _ ?”

It worked. The anger made his face flush red, and his beard bristled. “I have stood before a thousand men!” he roared, “All of them superior to you! And all of them dead! By my hand! I am not afraid!”

Al Mualim made his way down from the balcony. He walked around the garden and stopped to face Altair directly. The Apple glowed in his hand, its hypnotic pattern distracting. Yet they shoved the distraction from their mind and looked to Al Mualim.

“Prove it,” Altair said.

“What do I have to fear?” Al Mualim scoffed. “Look at the  _ power _ I command.”

And then, another Al Mualim stepped away. Then another, and another, and then continuing until there were nine of him, standing there. Each of them held an Apple in their hands, which slowly faded into nothing. And then all nine took the sword that hung from their waist.

“Another illusion,” they said, looking the nine Al Mualim over.

Altair smiled darkly at them. With their senses spread as broadly as they were, they  _ knew _ that none of these were the real Al Mualim. The Apple hid his presence, and it definitely was not in front of them.

“Hey, let’s have you, Altair, mime throwing knives at them!” they said cheerfully, though the grip on their sword was tight. Al Mualim had decades of experience on them, so even these copies would be dangerous if let close.

“Amazing,” Altair said to Al Mualim, as dryly as they were able.

And, as they suggested, mimed throwing knives at each of the copies. With each mimed throw, another of themselves took their blades and attacked a copy, delighting in the humor of it. Like the nine previous illusions, each Al Mualim fell and shattered into shards of light.

Altair frowned as they felt the world  _ shift _ , and then they found themselves bound by the light again. They startled, and tugged at their bindings.

Al Mualim paced in front of them, frowning heavily, with the Apple in hand. Illusions. The entire fight was an  _ illusion _ . Damn. This would be harder than they thought.

“Have you any final words?” Al Mualim asked, voice distant. Apathetic. He held his sword in his free hand, ready to gut Altair open.

“You lied. To me, and to others. You called Robert de Sable’s goals foul when yours were as well.” Altair said, both to stall for time, and also to know  _ why _ .

This was Al Mualim, their mentor, who led the Order for decades. He was the Master of Masyaf, the Old Man on the Mountain. The villagers and the Assassins looked to him for guidance. They would all follow his orders. So why did he feel the need to use the Apple at all?

Al Mualim shrugged his shoulders, uncaring. “I’ve never been good at sharing.”

“Oh, wow. What an  _ asshole _ ,” they said, staring incredulously. “And petty, and childish. I’m kind of hoping that that was the Apple.”

“You won’t succeed,” Altair said, glaring to cover up their smile. Not the time.

Al Mualim sighed, and shook his head. “And this is why so long as there is free will, there can be no peace.”

“What.” Altair said flatly, and then added, “You said peace was to be learned and understood.”

“Yes, I did,” Al Mualim said, nodding, “And I tried. I tried very hard. But men do not learn. They repeat the same mistakes over and over, and so there must be drastic actions to fix it. There can be no peace without authority, and so  _ I _ will be the authority.”

“I killed the last man who spoke as such,” Altair snarled, suddenly furious. The eagle within their mind screeched in outrage in time with them.

“Bold words,” Al Mualim snarled back. “But just  _ words _ .”

“Then let me go,” Altair said, “And I will make  _ actions _ instead.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Al Mualim said.

Altair glared at him. Another question entered their mind. “Tell me. Why did you not steal my mind like the others?”

Al Mualim studied him, and then sighed heavily, as if disappointed. “Truth is, I did try, in my study. But you are not like the others, and saw through the illusion.”

“Illusion?” Altair repeated faintly as they cast their memory back. When was this?

“When we first brought the Apple to him,” they said faintly. “Remember, we had that headache when he unwrapped it.”

“We thought it was the sight of the Apple itself, since we hid it from sight, and were distracted with other things prior.” they said.

“The eagle within our hearts screeched at the Apple, and we thought that because we found the Apple offensive,” they added.

“Even then, Al Mualim tried to use the power over us,” they said softly, mournfully. “It wasn’t a long corruption, as we feared.”

“That’s all it’s ever done,” Al Mualim said, petulant. Childish. “This treasure, this Piece of Eden, this  _ Word of God _ .”

“Illusions,” Altair repeated again softly.

Something... The nine Altair killed, brought back to life. The copies of Al Mualim. They knew that they were illusions, but…  _ the light holding him _ …?

“Do you understand now? The Red Sea was never parted. Water never turned to wine. It wasn’t Eris that spawned the Trojan War, but  _ this _ .” Al Mualim held up the Apple, still glowing golden. “Illusions, all of them!”

“What you plan is no less an illusion,” Altair said lowly, “to force men to follow you against your will.”

It went against  _ everything _ .

The core of the Assassins was choice. Free will. The ability to  _ choose _ what one wanted to do, without forcing their own will on others. Self-determination was the goal, but free will was the  _ means _ . That Al Mualim, their Mentor, the Master of Masyaf had given up on it…!

Al Mualim studied them, and their thoughts must have been visible on their face. Al Mualim sighed. “I see that logic has left you now. In its place you embrace emotion. I am disappointed in you.”

They all glared at him. “What is to be done, then?” Altair demanded.

“You will not follow me, and I cannot compel you,” Al Mualim said.

“And you refuse to give up,” Altair said.

“It seems, then, that we are at an impasse.”

“No,” Altair said, and drew their collective strength together. The Apple only produced illusions. It would take effort, but they could break free. “We are at an  _ end _ .”

The light that bound Altair disappeared, and Altair quickly drew their sword. Al Mualim had not fought yet, and he was a Master, decades into his life. For all the experience and skill that they, the eight of them together, held, Al Mualim had  _ more _ . But they were not weak, and Al Mualim was not expecting them.

And, together, they attacked, their senses spread thin. They parried for several blows as they tested each other’s strength. Al Mualim attacked with brute force, and Altair countered, circling the blade away. They shifted their grip so that when they turned on their foot, the hilt of their sword jammed into Al Mualim’s gut. He stumbled back, and then-

Disappeared in a burst of light. An illusion.

Altair let out a low curse. A headache pounded against their head again as Al Mualim tried to enthrall them again. Their eagle screeched in outrage at the sensation, and it faded lightly.

The eagle.

Altair started to understand.

The Apple only created illusions. Tricks of the mind, when the mind and its capacity to choose was revered by Assassins. To think, to learn, to grow. To see past the the lies and the  _ illusions _ of the world.

Nothing is True. Everything is Permitted.

Altair  _ reached _ , not to his other selves, as they would normally do when they needed more strength. No, they reached to the eagle in their heart and mind, who shared its sight with them. Who protected them from the Apple. They had trained their second sight, and had gotten more aware of the eagle. But they had never  _ reached _ for it before, content that it was there at all.

They reached now. The eagle called joyfully, and Altair could feel…  _ everything _ . Their senses expanded. Sounds, sights, smells, touch. They could feel the eagle’s wings, the feathers, as the eagle within their heart and mind flowed through their body. Altair felt the wings that they known for so long were  _ there _ , but never felt, never saw.

_ Nothing is True. _ Even illusions. Even the boundaries they imagined existed between Altair and the eagle.

_ Everything is Permitted _ . What influence the Apple had in casting illusions upon Altair shattered into shards of light like glass.

Altair was the eagle, and the eagle was Altair, and their sight was their  _ second _ sight no longer. The awareness they had of the world didn’t strain their senses, it simply  _ was _ . The smoke billowed over everything, in shapes and colors they had never seen before. It trailed through things it never had before, no longer centered only on people and their thoughts.

And, like a beacon, Altair could see their prey. They would swoop down, and kill their enemy. It was easy to take out a throwing knife and toss it, almost casually. It missed its mark, slightly, hitting the shoulder but not the heart.

“I am an eagle, Al Mualim,” Altair said, blinking bright, golden eyes at where they knew their prey was. “My blade sees for me. It cuts through the lies.”

The blood called to them, their prey, their  _ enemy _ , wounded. Altair jumped down, and grabbed their sword, striking. It was blocked, but Altair  _ saw _ the opening that created, and kicked Al Mualim in the gut. He disappeared again.

Altair frowned, and looked around. The headache returned, Al Mualim once again attempting to stop them. With a flex of their wings, the headache stopped.  _ Ah, over there _ . Altair threw another throwing knife, which hit Al Mualim in the leg. They followed up quickly, sprinting and jumping and  _ striking _ \- 

Al Mualim moved, and blocked the strike. Altair shoved at him, twisting on their foot, and pushed him back. As Al Mualim moved backwards, steadying his stance, the headache returned. It was harsher this time, and noise like static filled their ears.

Oh, but Altair was strong.  _ They _ were strong. It took barely a thought before the pain was pushed back, leaving their senses clear. Al Mualim clearly didn’t expect the ease of it, and Altair struck at his other leg. Another swing, and this time they broke an arm.

“Curse you, Altair!”

_ There _ . Altair pounced, wings spread, and they reached with their talons. Their hidden blade pierced their prey’s chest, below the heart and into the lung. The Apple fell out of his hand, never having let it go during the fight, and it rolled away.

“Impossible,” Al Mualim gasped, as he watched the Apple. He looked up, confused. “The student does not defeat the teacher.”

“We teach so that the next generation will surpass us,” Altair said. Then, more softly, “Nothing is absolute, and everything is possible.” Such as being an eagle shaped into human form.

“So it seems,” Al Mualim said, almost thoughtful. “You have won then. Go claim your prize.”

“You held fire in your hands. It should have been destroyed,” Altair sighed.

Could they even destroy a Piece of Eden?

“Destroy the only thing capable of bringing peace? Never,” Al Mualim stated.

“Then I will,” Altair said.

“We will see,” Al Mualim said. He closed his eyes, and died.

Despite everything, Altair took a shuddering breath, and mourned the man that had been a constant in their life. They felt the others press up against them, lending them their collective strength.

They stood, woozy, as their tight focus loosened slightly. As such, they felt the strain they had been putting themselves through; fighting the influence of the Apple, fighting the illusions, had seemed so simple. Well, it wasn’t, and they were now  _ exhausted _ .

“I feel like you,” Altair said wryly to Desmond, who rolled their eyes.

“We need a vacation,” they sighed, and rubbed at their arms. They all agreed with the sentiment.

Altair turned to the Apple, which without the golden light it casted, was a simple silver ball. It passively tried to tempt them, but they brushed it aside with ease. Like this, it appeared harmless. A trinket.

As they stepped closer, the Apple started to glow. Altair hissed in surprise, and took a step backwards.

_ “I did not fight for our freedom so that people would bow to me.” _

A voice, from nowhere, strange and yet somehow incredibly familiar.

Light coalesced from the Apple, and it emitted something upwards. It turned into the shape of a sphere, and soon enough it turned into-

“That’s the globe,” Altair said. Lights flickered on the map, locations set in place for some odd reason. One in Jerusalem, one in Giza, England, North America, Australia… so many places.

“Those are other Pieces of Eden,” they hissed in surprise, “Where they are in this time.”

“This is what Vidic wanted,” they said, blinking. “Fuck, shit, they wanted the map this entire fucking time!”

“Altair!”

They turned at the sound of their name, and realized why they had not registered their presence until so. Malik and Rauf were  _ safe _ to their senses, and as such ignored. Still, Altair reached for Kadar, just to check that he was safe. They sighed when they still felt him, and the others, safely under the fortress in the caverns.

“Malik, Rauf,” Altair said, relieved. “You are well.”

“What is this?” Malik asked quietly, staring up at the globe.

“A map of the world,” Altair said simply.

“What does it mean?” Rauf asked, eyeing it. “That is not the map of the world we know…”

“Desmond knows it,” Altair said.

Altair turned back to it. Something about the Apple now was… different. It was still like the kaleidoscope, hypnotizing, but it wasn’t… Altair carefully kept from focusing on the Apple. It didn’t feel  _ bad _ , evil, in the way it had when Al Mualim used it. But it was still dangerous, even as  _ something _ …

“Altair?” Malik asked concernedly.

“Oh,” they, Desmond said, reaching for their head. His head. “I think they’re pulling me out of the Animus-”

_ “We’ve got it!” _

Altair blinked at Desmond, and then their… his, other selves. What? No, the eight of them were still connected. They weren’t  _ trying _ to separate, were they?

“Altair?” Malik repeated.

Altair collapsed.

0o0o0

Lucy watched in concern as Desmond  _ gasped _ awake from the Animus. He flipped to the side, almost hitting his head in the visor before it could pull back all the way, and breathed heavily towards the ground. Lucy picked up the trash bin, alarmed, and handed it to him in case he threw up. That was a rather violent reaction, one that Desmond hadn’t had since they first put him in the Animus.

“What- what the  _ hell _ ,” Desmond breathed, and sat up to press his hands into his eyes. “I- what happened?”

Lucy eyed him, glad that he still spoke English, but worried at the accent. It sounded vaguely Middle-Eastern. Altair’s influence, no doubt.

“Quiet, Desmond,” she whispered to him. “You might want to listen.”

Desmond blinked at her in confusion, but turned to see Warren standing in front of the conference room, talking with their superiors. Superiors that Lucy was actually rather terrified to see, no matter that she was also in awe. These people were ruthless and would have no problems killing her the moment her use was null and void.

Lucy was so very, very glad that Project Siren was a thing, faced with Alan Rikkin.

“Well?” Rikkin asked, focused entirely on Warren.

“We’ve go the map,” Warren replied.

“And? How many?”

Warren smiled proudly. “At least half a dozen.”

Desmond looked to her, worried, and still exhausted. The bags under his eyes were deeper than when he went in. Lucy shook her head minutely. He was observant enough to pick up micro movements. Desmond turned back to the conference room.

“We don’t need them all,” Rikkin said, frowning.

“We can assume some amount of decay,” Vidic replied, “I can’t imagine they’ll all still be functioning. At least two appear to reside on landmasses that no longer exist.”

“We’ll dispatch teams to each site and determine viability. We only need  _ one _ after all.”

“What about the rest?” Warren asked.

“Collect them,” Rikkin said, “Let’s not leave anything to chance. Last thing we need is some damn survivor making trouble for us in the New World.”

Desmond stiffened. Lucy watched him from the corner of her eye, and shivered lightly. The expression on his face was-

“And the Assassin?” Warren asked, smiling. Lucy took a breath, ready to do her part.

“We have what we need. Kill him,” Rikkin said dismissively.

Desmond stiffened, this time in fear. Lucy took that as her cue. “Wait! You know how these things work. I  _ doubt _ we’ll be able to walk right in.”

“What’s your point?” Rikkin asked.

“We might need him,” Lucy answered. Warren took a step forward, predatory. “His memories. I’d recommend we hold him until we have confirmation that there aren’t any surprises waiting for us at the sites.”

“This is a  _ waste of time _ ,” Warren scoffed. Lucy knew that despite their plans, Warren would no doubt enjoy killing Desmond.

So, it didn’t take much acting to turn to him. “You said it yourself. We shouldn’t be leaving anything to chance.”

“Very well,” Rikkin nodded. “Ensure we have no further need of him,  _ then _ kill him.”

“Fine,” Warren grumbled.

Rikkin turned sharply on his heel, and he and his two guards left the conference room. They were silent as they all left.

Next part, then.

As soon as the door closed, Warren turned to her, angrily. “Stop undermining my authority!”

“I just saved your ass!” Lucy yelled back.

“Let’s go,” Warren growled, and walked away. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.” He paused in front of Desmond. “Don’t get too comfortable yet, Mister Miles. We’ll be back for you soon enough.”

Lucy moved to follow Warren. She glanced at Desmond, and felt her stomach go cold at the expression on his face as he watched them. The look in his eyes was-

Lucy continued after Warren. She could think about it later. Now, she had an escape to plan.

If only to stop Desmond from doing it on his own.

0o0o0

  
  



	17. I May Fall 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go with part 8 of desmond's story!
> 
> everyone is exhausted guys, and the hits just keep coming. good thing desmond is as adaptive as he is right? right. if and when he finally snaps it's gonna sure be interesting?
> 
> also i was never going to NOT include the fact that in sense8 the cluster all remembered their births.

Desmond blinked after Lucy and Vidic, his vision still black at the edges, and nausea churning in his gut. He felt chilled, but when he pressed a hand to his forehead, it came a way feverish. That made sense. Desmond just had a rather extreme physical reaction in response to some negative mental distress.

He stood up from the Animus and mechanically went to the bathroom. He splashed his face with water and drank a couple of mouthfuls. The cool water against his face did make him feel better, and his mouth didn’t feel so dry. He still felt like he could collapse for a week and not even care.

“Escape…” Desmond murmured, and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. The pressure alleviated some of the headache. “Ugh.”

If he sat down, he wouldn’t get back up for hours at least. Desmond walked to the closet and grabbed his old clothes. They were wrinkled to hell and back, and the shirt had some sweat stains, but at least they weren’t covered in trackers. He changed into them, and he felt marginally better in his old hoodie.

Depending on how long it took Abstergo to find the Pieces of Eden the map had shown them, Desmond had anywhere from a few hours to a few days to escape. If he took into account how long it had been since Altair’s time, degradation, as well as other environmental factors… 

He sighed, and climbed into bed. Lucy, at least, petitioned that he was still useful. Desmond felt safe enough in the time limit that he could sleep. Not for days, like he wanted to, but for at least a few hours.

Desmond closed his eyes, and reached for his other selves. It hurt. Whatever the Apple had done to them at the end, hurt. Being pulled forcefully away through the Animus, hurt. It was like an ache deep in his bones, but in his heart and mind.

“Desmond?” Ezio and Elise asked, their voices echoed through each other. It made sense that they retreated to each other afterwards. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he replied, and leaned into their mental touch. It throbbed lightly, as if doing so pressed against bruises. Desmond ignored it. The comfort was more important. “Are you?”

“Better than you,” Ezio replied tiredly. “You were pulled away, but the rest of us just returned to where we were.”

“We’re tired, and could sleep, but we don’t  _ hurt _ ,” Elise said.

The others all arrived slowly. Ratonhnhaké:ton and Jun arrived first. Then Evie, and then Aveline. They all wrapped themselves around each other, both a physical and mental group hug. They needed it, and it soothed the aches of being forcefully pulled apart when they were blended so thoroughly.

“Where’s Altair?” Desmond asked tiredly, searching for him. He was  _ there _ , but it was a distant thing. Like he was ignoring them, which absolutely was not possible. Not for them.

“He’s unconscious,” Aveline said, and pressed closer. “I tried to hold onto him, but the Apple did something.”

“It… glowed, and did  _ something _ at the end,” Desmond recalled. It took longer than it should. His thoughts were sluggish. “Not the map. But I thought I heard it talking.”

“It did,” Ezio confirmed, and pressed his face further into Elise’s shoulder. “I don’t remember what it said, but it spoke.”

“Do you think it was speaking specifically to Altair?” Elise asked.

“If he’s unconscious from it, probably,” Aveline said.

“It might be because of what he did,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. “You felt it, right?”

“Yes,” Desmond said, which was quickly echoed by them all. “He did  _ something _ with his second sight.”

“He reached for the eagle we have in our minds instead of us,” Aveline said softly and tiredly, thinking back. “You think that strained something?”

“Well, it might be part of everything that happened,” Jun sighed. “But in this case, I think it did something…  _ important _ . It feels important at least.”

Desmond thought about it. Ugh, it even hurt to think. “It was. Because if Altair is unconscious, we shouldn’t be able to feel him like this.”

“We always said that we had wings connecting us,” Aveline said slowly, thinking it over. “But it’s like he connected the eagle in our minds to the wings we already had?”

“That makes as much sense as any,” Jun agreed.

“Is this going to affect your second sight?” Elise asked.

“I… have no idea,” Ezio said. “At this point, all we can do is wait and see.”

“Malik and Rauf were there,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “Altair will be well taken care of.”

Desmond sighed, and pressed closer to them. He wished Altair were there. At least they could  _ feel _ him.

“Now we need to focus on your escape,” Evie said to Desmond. “You’re exhausted. We’re  _ all _ exhausted. But they are going to kill you if we don’t get out.”

“I know,” Desmond said. He might have accidentally scared Lucy, earlier. He hadn’t bothered hiding his emotions. He certainly felt murderous then. Now, it was settled into determination, even if he was exhausted.

“We still have the key codes to leave the bedroom,” Elise said. “But now we need a way to exit the Animus room.”

“It needs a key card,” Ezio said, “But for guards to get in, they need a key card as well.”

“I’m not going to be at my best, but a team is generally three or four only,” Desmond said. “And if I can take down the team sent in here to kill me, it’ll also give me weapons and  _ maybe _ some armor.”

“Which is a start,” Evie said. “But Abstergo and Templars aren’t stupid. We’re going to have to assume that even if we get their key cards, there will still be key codes, and likely locks that they won’t be able to access.”

“Codes should be fine,” Aveline said, shaking her head, “Our second sight will give us the numbers for that, even if we have to figure out the sequence on our own.”

“It should help that they won’t expect us to leave,” Elise said, “Maybe to attempt it, but not with all of the skills we have at our disposal. They might even be expecting the Bleeding Effect to hinder us even further.”

“We can definitely hide from the cameras too,” Jun said, “My second sight is focused on such things after all. That will give us an edge that we otherwise wouldn’t have.”

“Right,” Desmond said, and closed his eyes. “We have a plan, or the start of one at least. But we can’t go anywhere until they come, and I need  _ sleep _ .” Even if it felt like a bad idea.

“Sleep,” Evie said, “We’ll watch over you.”

-

Desmond blinked sleepily awake when Evie nudged him, a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and rubbed at his eyes. It helped wake him up and relieve the slight headache he had. Ugh, but he actually felt  _ worse _ . Sleeping was better in the long run, but it still made him that much more aware of how badly he felt.

“Something is happening,” Evie said to him. The others had all climbed out of bed to stand guard.

“Right, right,” Desmond said, and quickly stood up. He stretched his arms above his head, sighing in relief when it popped. “That was faster than we expected, right?”

“It’s been five hours,” Elise confirmed, watching the door warily. “Altair is still unconscious, but he’s sleeping instead of passed out right now.”

“That’s good,” Desmond said, and reached for Altair. Yes, he did feel more relaxed than before. Altair’s mental presence was distant and it still felt like he was ignoring them. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“No, but  _ something _ is,” Evie said, and turned her attention to where  _ something _ was presumably happening. “I don’t know- it’s not a bad thing, I don’t think? But we need to be prepared for anything.”

“Is it Lucy?” Desmond asked. If it were just an extreme sense of danger, he’d assume that Abstergo was sending guards to kill him. But if Evie said it wasn’t  _ bad _ , necessarily…

Evie blinked, and  _ focused _ for a second. “...Yes, it is. I’m not as familiar with her as you are, but she’s part of this. It’s hard to tell, since I’ve not tagged her while she was here.”

“If she’s part of it, then you’ll get the chance,” Aveline said.

“Right,” Desmond said, and waited.

They waited for nearly ten minutes. Desmond blinked tiredly at the wall Sixteen had written on, his eyes catching  _ I’ve entered the Abyss _ thoughtlessly. Something… It was something that he might eventually fall to if they didn’t leave.

Desmond was pulled from his thoughts about Sixteen when the door beeped. It was the alert that someone was entering. He settled a little to the side, and got ready for anything.

Lucy strode in. She wore jeans, sneakers, and a form-fitting athletic white shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail instead of bun. There was bloodstains on her shirt, almost a beacon in its color difference.

“Lucy? What?” Desmond asked, blinking tiredly at her.

“We’ll figure it out later,” Evie said, watching Lucy with narrowed eyes. “Right now, she’s helping us.”

“We have to go,” Lucy said firmly. She spoke in a tone Desmond hadn’t heard her use before. Actually, she stood differently than she had. More confident, and aware of her own strength. This was the Assassin that they assumed her to be. It was a good look on her.

“Okay?” Desmond said, and followed her out of the bedroom and into the room with the Animus. “What’s with the blood? Are you okay?”

Lucy frowned and went to the Animus, pressing some keys. “Look, we have maybe ten minutes,  _ maybe _ , before they figure out what I’ve done. If we’re not out of here and on the road before then…”

“And I need to get into the Animus  _ first _ ?” Desmond asked incredulously. “That’s a bunch of time wasted right there.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes, but shook her head. “I know, but we need you in here to retrieve the data from the memory core.”

“So… you’re stealing it?” Desmond asked.

“ _ Yes _ , Desmond,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes. “Now get in, the faster we get it over with, the faster we can leave.”

“Are you sure you want me in there with how long it takes me to synchronize?” Desmond asked, even as he walked towards the Animus. He was all for stealing shit from Abstergo.

“She’s green,” Evie said, watching Lucy with golden eyes. “She’s an ally right now. But I can’t tell if she’s  _ blue _ or not.”

“That’s good enough for right now,” Aveline said, “We can figure out more, later.”

“We’re not trying to get you into a memory, it won’t take more than a minute,” Lucy said in clipped tones. She glanced to the door worriedly. “Please hurry up, Desmond.”

“Okay,” Desmond agreed. He really, really didn’t want to do this. But he climbed into the Animus, and watched with trepidation as the visor slid over his face.

The menus opened over him, and he blinked when he realized that they were the menus he didn’t have access to previously. Huh, Lucy wasn’t bothering with the admin controls to keep them hidden from him this time around.

_ Subject Seventeen: Desmond Miles _

_ Subject Sixteen: *** _

Wait, what?

“Lucy-” Desmond started, confused. He’d never seen any reference to Sixteen in the Animus before.

“Oh, that’s not good. Lucy-” he heard Elise say, from where she watched what Lucy was doing.

_ Memory match found. Accessing memory… _

And then they all fell away.

0o0o0

_ It was tight and warm and small, then it was not- _

_ -there’s too much blood- _

_ -he’s a fighter- _

_ -that’s it, breathe deeply- _

_ -oh my god she’s beautiful- _

_ -take deep breaths now- _

_ -she has strong lungs- _

_ -we have her and the other one is- _

_ -you’re doing great, dear, keep it up- _

_ It was cold, and big, and too bright. _

_ But then there was something warm and familiar. _

_ Mother? _

_ -i love you, altair- softly and weakly _

_ -ezio auditore da firenze!- a declaration _

_ -i will call her jun- tiredly _

_ -let’s name her aveline- with tears and remorse _

_ -ratonhnhaké:ton- simply and proudly _

_ -what about elise?- offered excitedly _

_ -they’re evie and jacob, i love- with dying breath _

_ -we chose the name desmond- simply and with love _

_ That is. Me? _

0o0o0

Desmond woke up slowly, blinking through his tears up through the Animus visor. His limbs felt so, so weak. Like trying to move after a long illness. His sight was blurry, but he couldn’t tell if it were his tears or just exhaustion.

“Desmond?” Lucy asked, looking at him worriedly. Even so, she pulled a USB from the Animus and stuck it in her pants pocket. “Fuck, you have a nosebleed-”

“Wha-” Desmond tried, blinked some more as he felt something wet sliding down his face from around his nose. Huh. He did have a nosebleed. He thought it might’ve just been snot. Desmond wasn’t a pretty crier by any stretch of the imagination.

“Come on, that didn’t take as long as I thought, but we still need to move-” Lucy said, and quickly went to help Desmond sit up. “Are you okay?”

Desmond blinked at her. His sight was still off, so he used his second sight. Oh. She glowed blue right now. Sure, she had red in her, but right now she was firmly on his side. That was good. He leaned into her, too tired to really care.

“I’m okay,” he said tiredly. “Do you have-”

“Here,” Lucy said, and gave him some tissue. “Come on, wipe your face quickly, we have to get out of here.”

“Okay,” Desmond agreed. He quickly wiped the blood off. It wasn’t enough, but at least he wasn’t dripping anymore. He ignored his tears, because they were still coming.

Wow. Desmond just remembered his birth. That sure was a thing that just happened.

Oh wait. What about the others? Desmond reached for them and sighed in relief when he felt them reach back. They didn’t bother visiting each other. They were still rather in shock, but at least they felt each other. Oh! Even better, Altair was awake now. Probably not the best thing to wake up  _ to _ , honestly, but-

Yeah, they could all talk. Later.

“Desmond,” Lucy said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. Yeah, they were escaping, weren’t they? “Can you walk?”

He looked at her. Huh, he was on his feet now. That was good. He took a cautious step, and sighed in relief when he didn’t tumble. “Not quickly,” he said. “But you don’t have to help me, either.”

“Good enough,” Lucy said, and led him through the room. “Follow me. We need to get out of here, ten minutes ago.”

“Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve,” Desmond mumbled. “Didn’t have to stick me in the Animus. You get the thing?”

“Yes, I got the memory data,” Lucy said, looking at him worriedly. “You sure you can keep up?”

Desmond hummed. “Yeah. We’re getting out of here, I’m not stopping now.”

He didn’t think he’d be able to fight right now, not without consequences. But as long as the guards didn’t have bows- Wait,  _ guns _ , this was the twenty-first century. Yeah, as long as there weren’t guns, he’d be fine. Besides, Lucy was an Assassin. At the very least she had training. She could take care of herself.

Lucy led him out of the room. Like they thought, the hallway was rather empty, but the hallways were tall. It was all modern lines and glass and concrete. Lucy kept glancing back at him, even as she power walked, visibly worried about him.

Desmond blinked at her, and kept up his slow jog. Not his fastest by any means, but it was a pace he could keep up for a while yet. He wondered how terrible he looked. His face was probably bloated from crying, and his eyes would be puffy. Not to mention the nosebleed. He didn’t clean his face properly, so he wouldn’t be surprised if his face was covered in drying blood. Desmond wasn’t actively crying anymore, but his eyes were still blurry from the tears.

He looked down at his hoodie, and saw a couple of drops of blood on it. Well, that would be a pain in the butt to get rid of. At least he could just bleach it out. Which was one of the reasons he had bought a white hoodie, actually…

“Desmond, stay close,” Lucy murmured when they came up to a turn in the hallway. She turned to look, and then led down the rest of the hallway to the elevators at the end.

He startled when he felt the red presence of enemies. Fuck, he hadn’t been paying proper attention.“Lucy-” Desmond tried to warn.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be up here!”

They were on the other side of a glass wall, another key card blocking them from coming through the door. They glowed red and wore Abstergo security uniforms, and they tugged at the door. One of them tried their key card, but the lock beeped red at them.

Lucy didn’t even look at them, and started sprinting, completely ignoring the elevators she had just been leading them to. Desmond cursed lowly, and pushed himself faster. He couldn’t sprint, but he did keep up a decent clip.

“We have a breach in the research wing. I repeat, there has been a breach in the research wing…”

Well, that was even worse news. Desmond cursed again when he heard the radio chatter behind them, and hurried after Lucy. Even as she rushed, Lucy kept glancing at him to make sure that he was still behind her. Her expression was determined, and her eyes flinty.

Lucy led them through the inevitable maze of hallways and offices and labs, all visible through reinforced and likely plexiglass walls. Whoever decided that glass walls would make for good interior decorating was obviously drunk. At least the structural aspects were a solid and flat gray instead, though it did nothing to hide how industrial the place felt.

They came across another two guards, and they both pulled batons from their sides. They surged to life with electricity, and Desmond blinked. Oh, good. No guns here, not with all the glass and likely sensitive experiments going on. But shock batons were slightly harder to deal with than regular ones. Nothing Desmond couldn’t handle, of course, but he was exhausted right now-

Oh, look at Lucy go. She didn’t even hesitate, and rushed forward. She didn’t jump as highly as Desmond expected, but she managed to knee a guard in the chest. As that one fell back, she twisted on her heel and dodged a baton strike. She grabbed the wrist with the baton, and with her free hand did a quick strike to the face.

The baton dropped as that guard clutched at his face, and Lucy picked it up. She struck both guards in the abdomen with the baton, the electric discharge tazing them both. The two guards fell to the ground, moaning in pain, and out of the fight.

Wow. Lucy was a pretty good fighter. Nice.

Lucy looped the stun baton on her own belt loop, and kept running. Desmond hurried after her, grimacing. He could keep going, but if they didn’t leave soon he’d be regretting pushing himself. Well, he already did, but soon enough he would  _ regret _ it.

Not a minute later, Lucy led them to another elevator, Desmond slowed to a walk, shifting on his feet. Movement was key. The moment he stopped, he’d crash, and that would be a bad idea. Lucy audibly sighed in relief when the elevator doors closed behind them.

Desmond blinked at the camera. He borrowed Jun’s second sight, and sighed in relief as the circle came away clean. They were in the camera’s line of sight, of course, but it wasn’t recording them.

“What about the cameras?” Desmond asked Lucy.

“I rigged them on a loop of old footage,” Lucy said, and rubbed at her arms. She breathed slowly, keeping calm. “It’s how I kept your nighttime wanderings from Warren.”

Blatant lie. Those cameras never stopped recording. But it was the truth right now, and Desmond grinned at her. “You’re good.”

Lucy smirked at him proudly. “It’s been said.” Her face smoothed out, determined once again, her eyes flinty as she watched him. “But they’re on to us now, so we need to hurry.”

“Understatement, but sure,” Desmond said wryly.

Lucy rolled her eyes at him. It was nice, seeing more emotion from her. Regardless of whether or not she was a Templar plant or not, she didn’t act herself in front of Vidic. He was her superior, and she kept herself professional. Here and now, with her focused on getting them out, Lucy was more free to be herself.

“ _ I like her, _ ” Elise murmured in the back of his mind.

When the elevator doors opened, Lucy led the way. She moved cautiously, looking around for anyone. Desmond blinked, and decided not to let her know about his Eagle Vision. At least not here. The cameras might be on a loop, but audio surveillance was still a thing.

“We need to get to the elevators on the other side of this room,” Lucy whispered to him. “Follow me, but keep an eye out, yeah? I’d rather avoid a fight.”

“Yeah, sure,” Desmond agreed.

The room that they came out into was large, with incredibly tall ceilings, and exposed support beams. Along the top edge there was a walkway, meant to look down on everything below.  It looked like a warehouse converted into office space. But the offices were mostly glass, with only a single wall being solid, and supporting electricity. Did no one in Abstergo ever hear of privacy?

Eh. Templars. Probably not.  _ Rude _ , Elise murmured.

Lucy led them through the offices. They kept half-way crouched, bent and walking low, keeping out of sight from anyone that could see them from above. Desmond glanced in some of the cubicles and saw not desks but-

“Are those  _ Animus _ ?” Desmond asked. He glanced back, and a head, and saw that they were absolutely  _ filled _ with them. That shape and color was impossible to forget. How many were there? How many people did they kidnap? The way Vidic spoke about putting Desmond into a coma implied that they had done this before, yes, but this was a veritable army.

He was Subject Seventeen. Seventeen people was already a lot when Desmond thought that the Animus he used was the only one. And what made that Animus so special that it had its own area? It was pretty removed from literally  _ all of this _ . What did they even need with all of them? It couldn’t be just be the research and development team. There was no way they could finance all of these just for product development…

Lucy didn’t answer him, just led him through. Either she focused too much or not enough if she didn’t decide to answer him. Something to work on. Assassins by nature had to be multi-taskers. They couldn’t afford not to be. Even when they were busy trying to escape, Assassins should be able to hold a conversation.

They cleared the Animus farm and came upon the elevator. Lucy quickly slid a card into the key reader, and punched in a code.

“Fuck,” Lucy said when nothing happened. “I thought this card would work. It has to be on a separate system and I don’t have the code.”

_ Truth _ . Desmond blinked golden eyes at the keypad. “Wait,” he said to her, and stepped up to it. The keypads glowed that teal blue of  _ fingerprints _ , and he hummed. He tried the sequence in order. Nothing. The sequence in backwards order? Nothing. A third order and-

The light on the keypad lit up green, and the doors slid open.

Lucy looked to Desmond in surprise. “How did you do that?”

Desmond blinked at her, and rubbed the tears from his eyes. Ugh. He was starting to tear up from exhaustion now. Desmond really needed to sleep. “The numbers were worn down compared to the rest of them,” he explained. “And there are only so many combinations you can do.”

Lucy hummed thoughtfully, but shook her head. They entered the elevator. She pressed the button for what looked like the parking garage. A way of escape. Though how they would- drive, presumably- out when they were prepared for it…

“The escape itself is running normally to give it that sense of proper escape,” Evie said, appearing next to him. She rubbed at her eyes, groaning. “Ugh. Jacob’s supporting me, but we all still need to rest. Anyways. Planned escape, but the escape is going as if it were actually an escape.” Evie looked to him, and then disappeared back to England.

Well. Fuck. Okay then.

Desmond would have to wait and see. Lucy was still blue in his sight. Still an ally in this moment. She was escaping with him. Even if it was planned, she was willing to get hurt in the process.

“I think we’ve been wrong all along,” Lucy said, “That’s why we need to get out of here. Vidic and the Templars, they’re only part of the problem…”

Only  _ part _ ? Desmond blinked at her, confused as to where she was going with this. With his teary eyes, bloody nose, and the memory of their  _ births _ still running in the back of his mind, Desmond honestly was reaching the edge of his rope.

“What do you mean?” he asked plainly.

“I’ll explain when we get there,” Lucy said firmly.

“Get  _ where _ ?” Desmond asked, somewhat frustrated. They were in Rome, Italy. There were Assassin cells in the country, he knew that, but-

Oh fuck. There were Assassin cells.

If Lucy was working with the Assassins, either as a double agent or a triple agent or  _ whatever _ \- that meant that Desmond’s parents knew exactly where he was. A near decade spent under the radar, hiding from Assassins and Templars both, and his parents  _ knew where he was _ .

...could Desmond just hide in the Animus again?

0o0o0

  
  



	18. I May Fall 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go, part 9 of desmond's story!
> 
> i felt really tired writing this chapter lol.
> 
> but here, they're all exhausted and need to sleep for a week, desmond leaves with lucy, meets rebecca and shaun, and probably scares a few people along the way.

“Lucy, where are we going?” Desmond asked again, trying to control his shaking.

For some reason, he never thought he’d be so frightened at the thought of seeing his parents again. Yeah, it had been a nebulous idea in the back of his mind as he started his makeshift Order in New York, but it had been a  _ future _ worry.

He thought he would have more control on when and how his parents would learn of where he was. That he would have his friends and family to back him up, to provide moral support. But now, here he was, kidnapped and just escaping in an entirely different country, a literal ocean away from his captains.

“Desmond,  _ calm down _ ,” Evie murmured, appearing and leaning heavily on him. She wasn’t as bone-tired as Desmond was, but she was still tired. He took the strength she offered gratefully. Evie had Jacob and Henry looking after her. She was safe and could offer it.

Lucy didn’t answer him, frowning. The elevator stopped and gave a little  _ ding _ , and then the doors opened. Yeah, it was a parking garage. He spared some looks at the cars, making note of the different makes. Ziv would love hearing about them.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, several more guards came around the corner. Desmond and Evie cursed lowly, and he felt the others shift in the back of his mind, ready to provide strength for this fight.

There were five guards, and they ran towards them, shock batons already at the ready. Lucy leapt into the fray, her stolen shock baton already in her grip. She used it mercilessly and with skill, parrying blows aside and using the momentum to hit a guard in the abdomen.

Desmond held back, willing to leave it to her. Two guards weren’t so ready to leave him, though, and they charged at him, batons at the ready. He sighed, and got ready to move.

He ducked under the opening swing, and swept his leg out to knock that guard off his feet. Desmond twisted on his heel and struck with his other leg into the other guard’s shin. That guard flinched and stepped back. Desmond turned to the fallen guard and disarmed him of his shock baton.

The other guard struck at him again, having regained his footing. Desmond parried the blow to the side. He used the opening knee the guard in the gut. Then he brought the shock baton to the guard’s head. That guard went down, unconscious.

Desmond turned to the remaining guard. He was getting up already. Desmond stepped forward and swung the shock baton, and hit the guard upside the head. That guard went down as well.

Desmond hummed at them, and put the now deactivated shock baton on his belt loop. That could have gone better, he felt. That felt messy. Oh well, he was exhausted, whatever.

He looked to Lucy, who was just dealing with the last of the guards that went after her. Several strands of hair had fallen out of her ponytail and framed her face. She blew them away from her face and stood straight, and turned to him.

“Come on then,” Lucy said, eyeing the guards he put on the ground.

Her voice was gruff and somewhat breathless, likely from the fight. Endurance was another thing they needed to work on, then. But she had some pretty solid basics down, and experience with weapons. He wondered how she’d do with freerunning.

“Okay,” Desmond agreed, and followed after her through the garage.

Lucy led them to a rather plain white car, and opened the trunk. She nodded at it. “Get in.”

“You’re joking,” Desmond said flatly, eyeing it. He was a pretty tall guy, all things considered. He could fit in the trunk, but with all the equipment in there, it’d be… uncomfortable. Especially with the tire iron.

“It’s for your own protection,” Lucy said simply.

“Oh man,” Desmond groaned. It was the best way to keep him hidden from cameras and whatnot. This absolutely was not going to help with his exhaustion. Still, he climbed into the trunk.

Lucy smiled at him. “We’re almost there,” she said softly, and shut the trunk.

Desmond sighed. The ride was going to be uncomfortable and awkward and kind of painful no matter what. So, he took the chance to close his eyes and go literally anywhere else.

“Are you sure Lucy isn’t kidnapping you into a worse situation?” Ezio asked dryly.

Desmond blinked and found himself in Ezio’s bedroom in Florence. Elise was curled up next to him, blinking tiredly at them both. Desmond sighed and just. Faceplanted. Right next to them. Oh, but the bed felt  _ amazing _ , oh my god, Desmond never wanted to get up.

“Where is Lucy taking you?” Elise mumbled into Desmond’s shoulder, having curled into it the moment Desmond got into bed.

“I have no idea,” Desmond replied.

He grimaced as he felt a new bruise appearing on his shoulder. Distantly, he could feel his body being jostled around, but he very deliberately ignored it. His body would hate him when he returned; it likely would be hours of driving if they were leaving Rome. If they left Rome. Shit.

“You were panicking earlier,” Ezio said, arm thrown over Desmond’s waist. “Because you’re being taken to an Assassin cell.”

“My parents know where I am,” Desmond said plainly and into the bed. He wondered if he could. Just. You know, suffocate himself here so he wouldn’t have to deal with it.

“Yeah, they do,” Elise said. “I’m more worried about whether it’s your mom or your dad that will be going to you.”

“...I’d prefer my dad,” Desmond mumbled. He liked his mom more, but his mom was a lot scarier than his dad. He’d rather deal with his dad’s disappointment and snide comments.

Desmond would rather not deal with them  _ at all _ . Fuck, but there was a goddamn reason why he left, and it wasn’t entirely because the Farm was a half-assed version of a proper Brotherhood.

“We don’t know if they’ll be coming anyways,” Ezio said, “You’re dad is pretty busy with his networking and your mom is a teacher.”

“They’ll be getting reports from me either way,” Desmond said.

“Ami is in the Hephaestus network, she’ll know immediately where you are,” Elise said. “She can also send you messages about your parent’s location.”

Desmond turned his head to the side and breathed deeply. Yeah. That sounded good. Ami was how they avoided all contact with Assassins and Templars in New York. If she hadn’t found him in Abstergo’s systems already, she did have contact with Erudito. And Erudito could be counted on helping them, if only as a giant fuck you to Abstergo.

“How are you doing?” Desmond asked, deciding to forget about his own problems for the moment.

“Tired and trying to forget being  _ born _ ,” Ezio mumbled. He turned to Desmond. “Why are you descended from me?” he asked, whining a little.

Desmond blinked at him. “What?”

“You’re descended from Ezio,” Elise said, eyes closed. “That’s how the Animus works. It reads your DNA, checks your genetic memory, and then has you relive your ancestors’ memories. And it was Ezio being born that triggered the rest of us.”

Desmond stared at Ezio, and Ezio stared at him. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Ezio agreed.

Desmond thought about it. “Please tell me I’m not descended from literally anyone else in the group.”

“We have no idea,” Elise said.

“Ugh,” Desmond groaned and pressed his face into the bed again. Then he remembered- “Wait. I think Sixteen is descended from you too.”

Elise looked at him, eyes blurry. “Yeah, we already had this discussion. Sixteen was attached to the same memory files as you.”

“And that could only happen if you had a common ancestor,” Ezio said. He smiled. It was more of  a grimace. “In this case, that means me.”

Desmond stared at them both, and then pressed his face into Ezio’s chest. It was closer. “The fuck is my life, guys. Altair was easy to deal with, he’s far enough back that I’m probably related to half of Masyaf, and Jerusalem, and Acre and… yeah. But you’re a bit closer.” Though there were still a few centuries between them, it was a much easier lineage to track.

“I am,” Ezio agreed. “It’s not like I dislike being related to you, however distant. It’s the Animus I have problems with.”

“Giant breach of privacy it is,” Elise said.

Desmond closed his eyes and breathed. “Ugh. Still part of my problems. Ignoring my problems right now.”

“Sorry,” Elise said.

“Right,” Ezio agreed.

“Shit,” Desmond said, remembering what they had done  _ before _ Lucy put him in the Animus again. Ezio and Elise nudged him forward when they felt where his thoughts were going.

Desmond reached for Altair. He didn’t really have the energy to do so, since he was both mentally and physically exhausted. But Altair had just been through a rather intense situation and deserved his effort.

“Altair. How are you?” Desmond asked as he appeared in Masyaf.

Altair turned to him. He had large bruises under his eyes, and he trembled slightly. But he was on his feet and walking around. Why, Desmond had no idea. He should be in bed.

“You. Why did you have to make me remember being born?” Altair asked plainly.

“Not my fault,” Desmond whined, but went to wrap Altair in a hug anyways. “Didn’t answer my question though,” he mumbled into Altair’s shoulder.

“I know,” Altair sighed, and held Desmond tight. Hopefully people just saw him rest against a wall. “Busy. We need to deal with the bodies, and with what happened.”

“The Apple?” Desmond asked. That was a rather important thing.

“Malik hid it,” Altair said. “Locked it in one of Isra’s hidden chests.”

“That’s good,” Desmond said, and stepped back. He gripped Altair’s hand, not wanting to lose contact. “Al Mualim?”

“We’re going to burn the body,” Altair said, and started walking back down the hallway.

Desmond swore lowly. “That’s not going to make any of them happy.”

“It’s not, but I pressed for it by assuring them that we’d have proper funeral rights for Al Mualim, from a culture that does cremate their dead,” Altair said tiredly. “So his body is not being disrespected, but we are also making certain he’s gone.”

“How are the Assassins handling it?” Desmond asked. “Ours, the ones loyal to Al Mualim, and the ones we weren’t sure about?”

Altair closed his eyes. “We lost a couple of ours, who resisted the Apple long enough to hide the ones in the caverns. The rest are aware of what happened and are going forward with what we already meant to do. The ones loyal to Al Mualim are no longer so, aware of what he did to them, but they’re not on our side either. The neutral ones are more likely to follow my lead.”

“Malik? The others?”

“Furious at what happened, but tired and moving forward regardless,” Altair said, a small, proud smile on his lips. “We’re doing triage right now. Getting everyone and everything situated for the night. Tomorrow, we handle literally everything else.”

“Not exactly how we pictured making you Mentor,” Desmond said dryly.

“No, not really,” Altair sighed.

“Fuck, but you’re going to have to sleep when this is over,” Desmond said. “We all are.”

“I know,” Altair said, and rubbed his eyes. “But I can’t, right now.”

Desmond sighed, and pressed their shoulders together. “We’re here for you. Always.”

Altair smiled at him and leaned right back. “Yes.” He sighed. “I can’t rest right now, but that doesn’t mean you need to stay with me. Go.”

“Take care of yourself,” Desmond said. “Malik, Isra, Rauf, Kadar, and Hawa are here, too.”

“Yes, I know,” Altair said, “Go, rest.”

-

Several hours later, and the car rumbled to a stop. Desmond didn’t quite register this until he heard Lucy call his name.

“I guess you’re where you need to be,” Aveline said. “Best go now.”

“I don’t wanna,” Desmond mumbled, and debated just continuing to sleep. He was comfortable with Aveline, Jun, and Ratonhnhaké:ton curled up in a pile. It was warm, and nice, and it soothed the aching feeling he still had.

“Shouldn’t worry her,” Jun said, and pushed gently at his shoulder. “Besides, you can probably sleep in an actual cot or something instead of a car trunk.”

Desmond groaned, but returned to his body. Oh, that was worse. He had a few new bruises from the tire iron, and likely all the bumps on the road.

“Thanks for that,” Desmond said to Lucy flatly. “It was absolutely  _ wonderful _ being shoved in a trunk. Being bounced around. Absolutely loved it.”

“Come on,” Lucy said, and helped him out of the trunk. Desmond stretched and groaned in relief as his joints popped. “This way.”

“So. Are you gonna tell me where we’re going now?” Desmond asked. He glanced around. They were in what looked like a warehouse district. It was quiet here, and the light pollution was minimal. They had to be a good distance away from Rome.

“There was a reason for the escape, Desmond,” Lucy said.

“Figures,” Desmond sighed, even as he reached for the others. This sounded like it would be a  _ conversation _ , and he needed at least Elise here.

“We need your help,” Lucy said, and led them to a warehouse. They started climbing the outdoor stairs instead of heading inside immediately.

“For what?” Desmond asked warily. Elise appeared, blinking tiredly, Ezio leaning heavily into her shoulder, eyes half-lidded as he barely stayed awake. “Another treasure hunt through time?”

Lucy shook her head slightly. Desmond couldn’t quite see her expression. “Abstergo is going to replace their Apple of Eden. The map your ancestor found guarantees it. The Assassins will do what they can, where they can. But…”

“But what?” Desmond asked, frowning.

“We’re losing this war, Desmond,” Lucy said, pausing at a landing to turn to him. She looked so incredibly hurt, as if she couldn’t contain it.  _ Half-lie _ . The emotions were real, but exaggerated. Desmond frowned at her. “The Templars are too powerful. And every day, more of us die.”

Yeah, Desmond already knew this. Templars had adapted to the times, and maneuvered society into a form that they could use at will. Assassins, on the other hand, had  _ not _ . Desmond assumed that before the previous Mentor died, they did pretty well. But since then? Ha, no.

“I still don’t see how I fit into things,” Desmond said.

Because he did leave for a reason, and he was nearly a decade out of date. Or should be. The most he could see his parents wanting him back was because they were his  _ parents _ . And also to interrogate Desmond on how he had stayed under the radar for so long, since he didn’t get that kind of training on the Farm.

“We’re going to train you. Turn you into one of us.”

...What.

“What?” Desmond asked, voice cracking. “Wait. No, no- you’ve seen me, I can maybe do quick brawls. I left almost a decade ago for a  _ reason _ \- it would take months,  _ years _ even-”

He might be panicking.

Fuck it, Desmond  _ was _ panicking. Because there was only two people that could make the call to immediately have him brought back into the fold, and they were his parents.

“No,” Lucy replied confidently, smiling. “Not with the Animus. Not with the Bleeding Effect.”

Holy fuck. Desmond stared wide-eyed at Lucy, all thoughts running to a halt. Was his breathing starting to get too shallow? It felt hard to breathe-

“Here-” Elise said quickly, and slid into place. She lightly shoved Desmond to Ezio, who wrapped him in a tight hug. “No.”

“Desmond-” Lucy started.

Elise shook her head. “No. I can’t-” Elise swallowed, and looked as miserable as possible. Not that hard since Desmond’s face was still a mess of dried tears and blood. “I- I can’t- I won’t make a decision until I clean up. And sleep. No.”

Lucy’s lips thinned into a line as she stared at Elise. But she sighed, and her expression softened.  _ Truth _ . That was good. “That’s probably the best idea, yes. Come on then, let’s head inside.”

“Calm,” Ezio murmured, arm wrapped around Desmond’s waist as they followed after Lucy.

The others didn’t appear, the walkway too narrow for all of them to fit, but Desmond could  _ feel _ them pressing up against his mind.

Desmond took several deep breaths. He was emotionally, mentally, and physically drained right now. It messed with his usual calm, and Desmond  _ really _ didn’t like it. He wanted a shower and to sleep for maybe a week straight. That wasn’t even taking into account that it wasn’t just  _ his _ stress that he felt. It was a culmination, because they were all too tired to remain properly separated.

“That’s not being calm,” Elise said, switching places with him. She wrapped an arm around his waist too, so that Desmond was supported by both of them.

“...sorry,” Desmond whispered. He didn’t say it quietly enough because Lucy turned to him.

“No, no- it’s okay,” Lucy said, and smiled sympathetically at him. “It’s a conversation we all can have when we’re rested.”

Lucy led them into the warehouse. It looked similar to the buildings that were being built during Evie’s time, which put the date to the Industrial Revolution. The walls were fogged over, either by design or age, and exposed brick was everywhere. It had metal supports instead of wooden ones, holding up the massive building.

The room above the actual warehouse had clearly been converted for Assassin use. It had modern lighting and clean hardwood floors. The windows were covered by window blinds, with heavy blackout curtains pushed to the side to let in natural light. The space had several desks, a living area with couches, and what looked like a bed behind a partition. There were large shelves pushed against the walls, filled with ancient looking books as well as modern manuals.

In the middle, almost like a centerpiece, was a reclined chair hooked up to servers.

Desmond blinked at it, as it glowed  _ golden _ under his second sight. He looked around the rest of the space and saw more servers. They flickered as they continued processing, working already. He didn’t hear the sound of any central heating or air conditioning, so it seemed that they were to be at the whim of the server banks.

That had to be an Animus. It already looked so much more comfortable than the one in Abstergo. Desmond resolutely still didn’t want to get into it.

A young adult dressed in form-fitting overalls and impressive looking headphones looked up when they walked in. “Lucy! You made it!” With that, they rushed to Lucy, and pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s been so long! Seven years! Can you believe it?”

Lucy hugged them tightly in return, grinning broadly. Desmond blinked. That was the widest smile he had ever seen on her. He liked it.

“Indeed,” someone else said in a British accent. They looked like a historian with a sweater vest and everything. “Welcome back.”

These three had obviously known each other for a very long time. Desmond felt like he was intruding. He stilled, offering what privacy he could, but also looked at the three of them with his second sight.

Lucy, he noticed, had settled into a nice steady blue. She still had red, but her blue was better. It happened after she was hugged, so it seemed that she  _ trusted _ these people. But- seven years was a long time for anyone, so Desmond had to keep an eye on her.

The person with headphones was a vibrant blue, surprising to see, but also nice. There was also some hints of gold and white, indicating  _ importance _ and  _ information _ . This might be a true ally.

The British person was mostly white, indicating great amounts of potential information. Beyond that, they were all in shades of neutral-gray. They only had the barest hints of blue in them.

“Well,” Ezio said wryly, looking at them, “That one isn’t an enemy, at least.” That was true. There wasn’t a hint of red.

“Ah,” the British person said, turning to Desmond. They raised an eyebrow. “You must be the infamous Subject Seventeen. Desmond Miles, was it?”

Wow, did they  _ mean _ to sound so arrogant?

Desmond looked to Lucy, who only smiled. “Who are you?” Desmond asked plainly.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” the British person replied, somewhat more civilly. “I’m Shaun Hastings, and this is Rebecca Crane.”

Rebecca reached out to shake Desmond’s hand with a rather large grin. “Nice to meet you, Desmond,” she said smoothly.

She eyed Desmond’s face, but didn’t mention how terrible he must look. Nice. Desmond was about to respond before Hastings interrupted him.

“Right, well, it’s been lovely chatting. But if you don’t mind, Desmond, it’s best we get to work.” Hastings looked around the converted office and said in much quieter tones, “Time is precious. Doubly so these days.” With that, he went straight to what looked like his work area. It looked like the stereotypical conspiracy space, with papers pinned up and colored strings connecting things.

Rebecca took a step, bringing attention back to her and away from Hastings. Desmond glanced between her and Hastings. Ah. Partners, then, romantic or otherwise. The way she did that was too smooth to be anything else.

“We got everything set up and ready, Lucy,” Rebecca said, “Just say the word and we’ll get going.”

Lucy smiled at her, and pulled out the USB stick she’d taken from the Animus. “Here,” she said, handing it to Rebecca, “I brought you a present. A parting gift from Abstergo.”

Rebecca lit up like she had just been handed her birthday and Christmas gifts for the past ten years. “Whoa! The memory core? This is amazing!” She looked to Lucy and Desmond with a broad smile. “With their data, things are gonna go a lot faster!” As she turned and went to the Animus, Desmond heard her say, “I’ll get to work merging the code. We’ll need to see which pattern buffers, and the storage protocols need to connect with the assembly code…”

“She is cheerful,” Ezio said, watching Rebecca amusedly. “I like her.”

Desmond laughed quietly Rebecca was a breath of fresh air after being stuck in Abstergo for so long. She reminded him of Ziv, actually. But if Rebecca were a programmer like Desmond thought, she’d likely get along best with Seda.

Lucy looked to Desmond, still smiling. It seemed Rebecca was good for Lucy. She looked so  _ soft _ compared to in Abstergo. “It’ll take some time for her to merge the code on that.”

“Does this mean I can take a shower and sleep?” Desmond asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Lucy laughed lightly. “Here, the bath is this way.”

The shower was  _ wonderful _ . Everything was generic, but in a money-saving way than the ‘you are a prisoner’ kind of way. It did the job, and the hot water on his sore muscles was literally the best thing that had happened to Desmond in the past forty-eight hours.

“Don’t fall asleep in the shower,” Evie said, appearing outside the shower stall.

Desmond blinked awake, realizing he had, indeed, almost fallen in the shower. That would have been embarrassing. Though if he could just sit in the tub under the hot water for a couple more hours, Desmond wouldn’t even  _ care _ .

“Come on,” Evie said, “If you’re going to sleep, sleep in a proper bed.”

Evie helped Desmond dry off and dress into his clothes. They were still the same old, and needed to be washed, but at least they were comfortable. He stumbled out of the bathroom, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets to hide the slight trembling. Evie kept him steady.

There were two bedrooms aside from the bed behind the partition. One was for Lucy and Rebecca, and the other for Desmond and Shaun. Desmond honestly didn’t care with whom he slept, but he supposed Lucy might.

“Here, Desmond,” Lucy said, taking him to the small kitchenette. She handed him a sandwich. “You look ready to pass out, but you should definitely eat something first.”

“Thank you,” Desmond said, taking it and eating automatically. He was getting tired of sandwiches, even if Lucy had brought him more variation near the end. “...if you get the stuff, I can make some actual food,” Desmond offered.  _ Nonna _ and the other Aunties and Grandmothers made absolutely certain of that.

Lucy lit up. “Oh,  _ please _ . It’s been sandwiches and instant food and take-out for all of us.”

“Hopefully you’ll be a better cook than an Assassin,” Hastings said. Desmond turned to see him, drinking from a teacup, leaning on the doorframe. “Seriously. I saw the tapes of you from Abstergo. You didn’t even  _ try _ to escape.”

What the fuck. Desmond  _ stared _ at Hastings, waiting for him to realize how bad he sounded. Evie muttered some low curses next to him. She eyed Hastings, taking into consideration all the ways to make him  _ hurt _ without causing damage. It made Desmond feel better.

Hastings swallowed, blinking rapidly. Then he scoffed, dropping his teacup off in the sink and walking away.

Desmond watched him, glad of his departure, before sighing deeply and turning to Lucy. She blinked wide eyes at him, and he stared at her confusedly.

“What a dick,” he complained.

Lucy smiled a little, but something in her expression seemed off. “Finish your food, Desmond. You look way too tired to be up right now.”

“I am,” Desmond agreed.

Not ten minutes later, and Desmond climbed into bed. He  _ reached _ , and felt a couple of bodies land into bed with him. He didn’t even bother registering who of his other selves were there. Just past the door, he could hear Lucy talking with Rebecca and Hastings.

Desmond wasn’t safe. He was in a place he didn’t want to be, with people he wanted to avoid. But he was away from Abstergo, and with his other selves. He could afford a solid night’s rest.

He pressed closer to his other selves, sighed contentedly, and fell asleep.

0o0o0

  
  



	19. I May Fall 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 10 of desmond's story!
> 
> man, this chapter was pretty hard to write comparatively, 'cause we're moving away from abstergo into totally new territory here! it's gonna be a pain in the butt to write and still make sense but not be choppy, ugh, writing is hard guys
> 
> i do like the 'us against the world' thing that these four get in the games, and i wanna keep it. it's just gonna come about very differently lol

Desmond slept soundly through the night. The bed was comfortable, he was relatively safe, and he had his other selves with him. It wasn’t the best situation possible, of course. That would be his apartment in New York, which right now he sorely missed. But it was definitely much better than the last week. And now that Desmond didn’t have the threat of being put into a coma on him, he didn’t let anything wake him up.

It helped that Malik and Kadar had forced Altair to go to bed. The minute he sat down, Altair about instantly fell asleep. So the eight of them slept in tandem, their minds connected, and a night’s worth of contact bled through them all. It wasn’t the solid week of sleep that Desmond felt he  _ still _ needed, but it was a solid ten hours worth of uninterrupted sleep. And it was  _ magnificent _ .

It made him that much more ready to face an Assassin cell. His parents undoubtedly knew that he was there, and the apparent state he had been in when he arrived. But both of his parents were busy and important people, so it was unlikely that they would show up. Especially this close to Abstergo.

Though the eight of them thought the idea of separate, unconnected Assassin cells stupid overall, what with the extreme ease of contact available to them compared to previous times, they understood  _ why _ they were. Especially after the previous Mentor died.

Desmond sat up in bed, yawning, and rubbed at his eyes. Ugh. He certainly felt all the bumps and bruises he had gotten in the trunk. There were also the somewhat strained muscles from getting into fights after little to no movement in a week. Not to mention the general exhaustion overall. It wasn’t bad anymore, but he still felt it.

“Morning,” he yawned, listing to the side and slumping shoulder to shoulder with Altair.

He must have been especially tired if he hadn’t dragged himself out of bed earlier. Or Malik had Kadar sit on him. Either was likely, as they both happened before. Kadar especially was good incentive to  _ not move _ .

His stomach grumbled lightly. Yeah, Desmond was hungry. Hopefully there was something to eat in the kitchenette. He stood up and stretched, sighing in relief as his joints popped. Altair yawned as well, and then disappeared back to Masyaf. Good luck to him.

“Oh, morning Desmond!” Rebecca greeted when he left the room. She had deep bags under her eyes, and there were a few empty energy drinks around her work station. “Wow, you slept like a rock.”

“I did,” Desmond agreed, heading towards the kitchenette. “I needed it.”

“Apparently! We tried waking you up a few times earlier, but you ignored us,” Rebecca said. She paused and then said, “You’re kind of terrifying when your exhausted.”

“How so?” Desmond asked, pausing in his walk to blink curiously at her. Yeah, he didn’t like being woken up, but he wasn’t scary. Was he?

“Well, you just brushed me and Lucy aside when we tried waking you up,” Rebecca said. That made sense, Desmond liked them and didn’t want to scare or hurt them. “But Shaun was more impatient I guess, so when he tried waking you up the second time, you  _ growled _ at him.”

“Growled?” Desmond asked amusedly.

Rebecca nodded. “I didn’t know humans could even  _ make _ that kind of noise. Then you said something in Spanish, I think? But it sounded very much like a threat, so we decided to let you wake up when you wanted to.”

“I don’t remember,” Desmond said honestly. Desmond wasn’t one for sleep talking, so it was probably one of the others. Evie, maybe. She was overprotective and would definitely threaten people to let him sleep.

“Well, you look less like death warmed over than yesterday, so I suppose the ten solid hours was worth it,” Rebecca said, nodding sagely.

“It was,” Desmond agreed, and went to grab himself some cereal, and stuck a bagel in the toaster. Kind of exactly what he had in Abstergo, but so much better because  _ Desmond _ was the one making it.

“Desmond!” Lucy said when she walked in several minutes later. Must have been doing a perimeter check. “You’re awake, finally.”

“Morning,” Desmond greeted, holding his bagel up in a salute. “Sleep well?”

Lucy blinked, and laughed. “Yeah, actually. You look much better.”

“I feel better,” Desmond said, “Where’s Hastings?”

Lucy looked oddly at him, but shrugged. “Shaun is on a grocery run. You spooked him earlier when you growled at him.”

“Man, I wish I could remember,” Desmond said.

“Probably better you don’t,” Lucy said amusedly, “So you don’t do that on command.”

“Damn, there goes my plans,” Desmond said, and snapped his fingers disappointedly.

It made Lucy laugh. He watched her; this freedom, away from Abstergo and Vidic was a good look on her. They had to start talking to her about pulling her away from the Templars. If anything, she deserved freedom away from people that made her stifle herself, regardless of where she ended up afterwards.

Desmond followed Lucy out into the main room, where the Animus was. Rebecca was sitting at the monitor, her laptop plugged in. It looked like she was  _ still _ working on it.

“Did you sleep at all, last night?” Desmond asked.

“I took a quick nap earlier,” Rebecca said, shrugging. “I was kind of caught up in the code, you know? But it’s done now, all ready to go whenever you are.”

Desmond sighed, and crossed his arms. “About that,” he said.

Rebecca looked up, and saw something in his expression. “Lucy didn’t tell you?”

“She tried, but I didn’t want to talk about it until I showered and slept,” Desmond said.

Rebecca grinned easily, though her expression was also awkward. “Yeah, no shit. You looked terrible when you arrived.”

Lucy sighed and crossed her arms too. “Right, it’s a discussion we need to have now that you’re rested. We’ll wait for Shaun to arrive first, though.”

Desmond snorted. “You sure? Whatever he says is likely to make me do the opposite, just to spite him.”

“Aww, don’t be so hard on him,” Rebecca said, “He’s not as much of an ass as he likes to act. He’s just stressed. We all are.”

“If his first instinct is to be a condescending ass when stressed, it doesn’t say much about him,” Desmond pointed out, somewhat repeating what he had told Lucy about Vidic. “Emotional outbursts and anger, sure. Sarcasm, sure. Not how he’s been acting towards me.”

Rebecca sighed, an nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But he’s not so bad normally, either.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Desmond said, humming thoughtfully.

Maybe Hastings was like Malik, who wielded his words like another blade, and could be callous without meaning to sometimes. But until Hastings learned to apologize for what he said wrongly, like Malik had, Desmond would keep his reservations.

“Until then, you can help me set up the security system,” Lucy said.

She had grabbed several devices while Desmond and Rebecca were talking, roughly the size of Desmond’s hand. He recognized them as transmitters, meant to hide their electronic presence. These in particular were Assassin-make, and thus years ahead of whatever was on the market.

“Sure,” Desmond agreed.

He wouldn’t be getting into the Animus any time soon. At least not unless they could give him some  _ damn _ good reason to. But he wanted to talk with Rebecca about sending a message home, and try to get Lucy on his side. The least Desmond could do until he left was help set up their security.

It wasn’t that hard, all things considered. There was no rush, so Desmond didn’t mind taking things slow. He didn’t hide his skill, but he didn’t show off, either. He noticed that Lucy watched him, studying him, and figured she was deciding what his current abilities were.

“She said she was going to make you an Assassin,” Elise said, when Desmond reached one of the higher spots. She still looked stressed, but less  _ tired _ overall. “I guess that’s getting a baseline before you start training.”

“Lucy’s also a Templar plant, so she’s probably going to report it to Vidic and Abstergo too, even as she sends reports to my parents,” Desmond said, placing another system piece in place.

“She loves these people,” Elise said, watching Lucy, who kept a stern eye on Desmond, “She doesn’t want to hurt them, or hurt you. At this point, it’s best to ask  _ why _ she decided becoming a Templar was the best option for her.”

“Yeah,” Desmond agreed.

Hopefully they could provide a better option for Lucy. Though not  _ quite _ there yet, it was becoming obvious that the red in Lucy that marked her as an enemy was duty instead of personal feeling. Duty and obligation were often harder to shake than anything else, but Lucy had already turned before. And Desmond was almost certain that for all that she was a Templar, and believed in them, she’d do better  _ away _ from Abstergo. Not Templars, but Abstergo in general.

Good thing they had Elise. Desmond may not be an Assassin as the modern Order would see it, but he wasn’t a Templar, either.

“You’re pretty good at climbing,” Lucy commented when Desmond went back down to meet her.

“Yeah, I had to be at one of my previous jobs,” Desmond said, shrugging. “When they hire what they think is an undocumented immigrant, they’re not as strict about labor laws.”

“Where’d you work?” Lucy asked, eyebrows raised.

“Construction and maintenance for a couple of summers,” Desmond said. Around his self-made job as a courier and jack-of-all-illegal-trades, of course. “Let me tell you, you stop being afraid of heights  _ real _ fast when you’re paid to.”

Not that Desmond had been afraid of heights in the first place. None of them were. But there sure was…  _ something _ about being atop of a high rise, or a skyscraper, with little to no gear holding you in place. He supposed it was something like faith.

Lucy hummed thoughtfully. “You had a pretty extensive life away from the Farm, didn’t you?”

Desmond looked at her. “You curious for your sake, or for whatever reports your making?”

Lucy startled, obviously not expecting the blunt question. She did smile amusedly at him though, though her eyes were somewhat uneasy. “Can’t it be both?” she asked.

Desmond snorted. “Yeah, sure, but I don’t know if I want my parents knowing what I did. Not from a report at least.” Or Vidic. Desmond didn’t think Lucy would report  _ every _ little thing that didn’t have to do with her actual mission, but he didn’t dare say anything anyways.

Lucy laughed awkwardly. She bit her lip, and looked at Desmond from under her lashes. It was a thinking silence, and Desmond waited, watching her with his second sight. After several long moments, Lucy took a fortifying breath.

She glowed blue before she spoke. Truth, and well-meaning. Desmond relaxed slightly. “It’s just- I was born into the Order, too. I was raised in a city, though, with a few other kids under the guise of foster care.”

“Because the government doesn’t pay as much attention as they should,” Desmond said in realization. The foster care system had its upsides, and overall did good work. But the kids that slipped through the cracks was- a lot. A perfect cover for Assassins, who needed to hide from governments and Abstergo.

Lucy nodded. “Yeah. It made things both easier and harder. We didn’t have physical training like the Farm did, not anything non-recreational at least, but we did have more social conditioning. An Assassin from the Farm could run circles around me, but Assassins raised in the cities were  _ so _ much better at infiltration.”

“Oh yeah,” Desmond agreed wryly. “I spent two years in Chicago after I left, and let me tell you, that was a culture shock and a half.” If he hadn’t had his other selves to fall back on, especially Elise who lived in lively old Paris, Desmond might have gone slightly insane.

Lucy laughed softly. “Oh, I definitely saw it. I met a couple of people from the Farm who came for missions. They handled it well, I thought, but they definitely were pretty wide-eyed at everything.”

Desmond laughed with her. “So, we both were born into the Order,” he said, bringing them back to Lucy’s original point.

Lucy sighed. “I was just- I grew up with the Order, yes, but I also grew up in a city. I was… aware, of everything. It never occured for me to  _ leave _ or to do literally anything other than what was expected of me. And you- you left and changed and did what sounded like  _ so many _ different things. Even if it were just for survival it was-” Lucy trailed off and bit her lip again.

Desmond stared at her, surprised by the burst of emotion. He softened his expression as he took it all in. “You’re still doing what’s expected of you, aren’t you?” he asked.

Assassin, Templar, whatever. Lucy was good at what she did, but she still followed  _ orders _ . Maybe she had the independence to do it on her own terms, but those were still on someone else's dime.

“Yeah,” Lucy agreed softly, looking away. “I am.”

“Well,” Desmond said, deciding. Now he felt like helping her to help her, instead of just to get her on his side. Yeah, he liked her and would like to keep her around, but if in the process of helping her he got her  _ away _ ... “Would you like to leave?”

Lucy snorted. “Not possible, Desmond.”

“I left,” Desmond pointed out.

“And you got kidnapped, eventually,” Lucy said, “You stayed out of it for an impressively long time, I’ll admit, but you still got  _ caught _ .”

“I did, didn’t I?” Desmond mused, looking to the side. Neither a denial or an affirmation either way. He didn’t indicate if he had been caught by accident or on purpose. Contextually, it had been sheer bad luck on his part, or good luck on Abstergo’s.

But Lucy was very well trained, so she caught the  _ other _ implication immediately. She looked sharply at him, wary and suspicious of what he meant, but still kept her face smooth. Honestly, being a city-raised Assassin explained a lot about her. Desmond would have fallen immediately for her ploys if he didn’t have his second sight, or the others to help him.

“Still didn't answer me though,” Desmond said, looking back at her. “Do you want to leave? The whole thing, Assassins, and Templars, and the war.”

Lucy paused. “...I don’t know. I never really thought about it. It’s kind of- a lot.”

“Trust me, I know,” Desmond said, smiling assuringly at her. “I left when I was sixteen, but it wasn’t just a snap decision. It was a lot of things over a couple of years. I didn’t just make it without thinking.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t have stayed hidden for so long if you hadn’t,” Lucy said.

“Nope,” Desmond agreed. He studied her, and watched her start to gain a golden  _ mission important _ glow around her edges. Seems his decision was made already. “If you make a decision either way, tell me. I can point you in the right direction.”

Lucy looked at him, expression blank. Still, Desmond could almost  _ see _ her thoughts whirling, like Isra had taught them to look for. He waited patiently, and after a long moment, Lucy let out the breath she was holding. It was a long, expansive sigh, and Lucy smiled wryly at him. Her red sparked slightly, but it dimmed in the end; she still held her loyalty, but now that she was thinking of something else, it wasn’t tethered as tightly.

“Sure, I’ll do that,” Lucy said.

Desmond grinned at her. Yeah, he was trying to get her to turn coat  _ again _ , but he felt like had Lucy’s best interest at heart compared to literally anyone else.

“So, when’s Hastings coming back? We might as well have this conversation while I still feel like having it at all,” Desmond said.

“He should be on his way back by now,” Lucy said, leading them back to the main room. “I sent him a bit earlier than normal, since you said you would cook for us if we had proper groceries. He even went willingly when I mentioned it was that or take out again.”

“Wow, you guys have been slumming it, haven’t you?” Desmond asked.

Lucy grimaced theatrically. “You have no idea.”

“Well, you’ve earned my pity points,” Desmond said.

“What pity points?” Rebecca asked, blinking at them, having taken her headphones off when she noticed them arriving.

“The ones where I feed you recipes my  _ Nonna _ taught me,” Desmond said.

Rebecca’s eyes lit up. “Grandma recipes? You know Grandma recipes? And you’re going to cook for us? Oh my god Desmond I love you.”

“Just don’t propose, I’ve already got half a dozen back in New York I still have to reply to,” Desmond said.

“Wait, you have a grandmother?” Lucy asked.

“Not biologically, but I’ve got several old ladies who decided I was too scrawny and adopted me on the spot,” Desmond said, shrugging. And he  _ was _ scrawny before he filled out. Now, he was still pretty thin comparatively, but he wasn’t skin and bones anymore.

“Wait, people have actually proposed to you?” Rebecca asked, looking utterly delighted at the prospect.

“...they were mostly joke proposals,” Desmond said. Mostly by Tristan, who lovingly proposed to everyone who did something nice for her.

“That means there were some  _ serious _ ones,” Rebecca said, leaning forward with a glint of mischief in her eye. “Come on, tell me-”

“What’s this, you’re actually up now?” Hastings called from the open door. He carried several bags of what looked like groceries. “I’ll have you know, we’ve spent all of our food funds for the next couple of weeks, so I hope you’re happy.”

“Well,  _ you _ should be considering I’m cooking for you too,” Desmond said, throwing a smirk at Rebecca. She looked exaggeratedly outraged at the cut off. Yeah, Desmond liked her. “Besides, I’m used to making food stretch. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Hastings eyed him, as if considering how serious Desmond was. “Well, help me with the groceries then, I’m not holding them for forever.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Desmond said, rolling his eyes. He still grabbed the bags Hastings had in one hand. So, he wasn’t as weak as his sweater-vest would proclaim. Likely still needed some conditioning, but he wasn’t hopeless.

It didn’t take them long to put all the groceries away. It was all generic stuff, covered in Italian print. They were outside of Rome, but they couldn’t be  _ too _ far away if they still had access to a decent grocery store. Desmond hummed in thought as he registered what, exactly, he now had access to, other than the generic sandwich ingredients and frozen meals.

The fresh fruits and veggies would be the first to be used up, as well as the meat and eggs. The spices, though, were the most important. They were likely what most of the food budget went to, but they would last a while. Mostly. Definitely until they could safely start spending food money again. There was a block of cheese, and some cream, which went into the refrigerator. There were frozen veggies, as well as some bulk meat that could be separated into individual portions. There was somehow a small bag of flour, which was useful. Couldn’t make a proper bread without an oven, but it definitely expanded how many recipes Desmond could make…

“I think Hastings just learned you hadn’t agreed to helping them,” Ezio commented, having been helping him check his new food inventory. Ezio was the one with the least amount to do right at that moment; Elise was working with Arno. She’d call if she needed help.

Desmond nodded, having heard the yell. He heard Hastings stomp into the kitchenette where he had been putting everything away.

Well, nearly everything. He set the spices in one of the grocery bags, to be carried out as needed. Strangely, this was something he actually inherited from his mother; if you weren’t leaving with the  _ absolute  _ bare necessities, food preparation and items related to it were considered a necessity. Then it was further drilled into him by Nonna, and his Aunties, and later by his captains who had their own feelings about homemade food.

Anyways, food was important.

“Why are you even here, Miles?” Hastings scowled heavily at him, arms crossed.

Desmond raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if Hastings realized that crossed arms for Assassins was actually a  _ non-threatening _ gesture. “I’m sorry, did I miss the part where I was kidnapped, and then later reverse-kidnapped and brought here in the trunk of a car? I could have sworn that happened, but who knows, Lucy did tell me a side-effect of using the Animus is hallucinations.”

Hastings blinked in surprise at Desmond’s rebuttal. Huh. With Rebecca around, he’d have thought Hastings was used to being countered. Then again, Rebecca seemed like an enabler of sorts, who’d cheerfully point Hastings in the direction she wanted verbally eviscerated. She definitely had that deviousness to her.

“Hm. If he’s like Malik, then he needs an Altair to keep him in line,” Ezio commented, watching Hastings. “Though if he didn’t have one growing up, that explains why he doesn’t apologize.”

“I refuse,” Desmond told Ezio bluntly. “You’re implying something there, and let me tell you right now. I. Refuse.”

“Just pointing out the possibility,” Ezio said amusedly. “Besides, poor Malik was pulling double duty for you too.”

“Altair and I  _ look _ the same, we don’t have the same personality,” Desmond said flatly, “If Malik was pulling double duty for  _ anyone _ , it’d be Aveline.”

“Not really, Aveline is more polite than Altair,” Ezio said, “and everyone else knows better than to aggravate Malik. You don’t.”

“I don’t aggravate him!” Desmond said hotly. He didn’t! It was just that the universe hated him, and the people that knew about them had a hard time telling Desmond and Altair apart at the first glance. Which made  _ no _ sense, honestly!

“Not on purpose, no,” Ezio said, smiling broadly. “So make friends with Shaun Hastings and you won’t have to make Malik angry any more.”

“I hate you,” Desmond said flatly.

He eyed Ezio, wondering if he could get away with hurting him without bothering Elise. Jun had found a way, but she had resolutely chosen not to tell anyone else. It’d be tricky, but Desmond was sure he could do something-

“Are you even listening to me?” Hastings demanded, cutting their argument off.

Desmond and Ezio turned to him, startled. Ah. It seemed that they had ignored him Not on purpose, though, they had gotten used to holding separate conversations. Desmond hadn’t been speaking out loud, thankfully.

“Uh, no, sorry,” Desmond said, “What did you say?”

Hastings stared at him, incredulous and indignant. And- for some reason, it also looked like worry. The eight of them did look like they were staring off into the distance when they didn’t speak to each other out loud. It was possible they were worried that Desmond was already losing his mind. Though Desmond had no idea why  _ Hastings _ cared.

“Someone is allowed to worry for your well being and still dislike you,” Ezio pointed out.

“Never mind,” Hastings said, scowling. “But if you’re done, we may as well have that conversation Lucy said we needed to have.”

“Sure,” Desmond said. “That sounds like it’ll be loads of fun.”

Hastings snorted, and then looked mildly surprised at himself. Wow. Hastings was determined to not like Desmond at all, wasn’t he?

“I think I’m gonna take it as a challenge if he keeps this up,” Desmond told Ezio.

“See, you do need a Malik,” Ezio said cheerfully. “Keeps you on your toes!”

“I’m gonna stab you,” Desmond said flatly.

“You can try,” Ezio replied easily.

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna  _ try _ .”

“Miles, are you coming or not?” Hastings asked irritably.

Desmond turned to him, ignoring Ezio. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way. But seriously, loads of fun.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it,” Hastings said, and left the kitchenette.

“You think I can fit through the window?” Desmond asked, eyeing the kitchen window that sat above the sink. It was pretty small, all things told, but Desmond was relatively skinny. He’d have to shimmy a bit, and make sure to be quiet, but he could do it.

“Yes, but it won’t be easy. Especially if they’re waiting for you and would come to check on you,” Ezio said, “You’d best go and have that super fun conversation you need to have.”

“Ugh,” Desmond groaned, and rubbed his face. Ezio patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, both comforting and teasing all at once. Asshole. “Let’s go face the music.”

0o0o0

  
  



	20. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> interrupting desmond's usual story for the other type of chapter
> 
> i wanted cuddles and soft family feelings so that's what i wrote. there's gonna be two chapters, the next will focus on the remaining four.
> 
> kadar is a precious bean who sees far too much for his own good, petruccio is still smol but is keen enough to grow up terrifying, gerard is a thinky thinky person, and meilin is an expy that you'll probably never see again lol
> 
> also writing this made me realize how little there is to jun's game for friendly background characters, so i made it more tragic that she couldn't save them lol

Kadar watched as Malik and Altair talked over their dinner, calm and peaceful as anything. Even when Malik sniped something, it was done without his usual bluster. Kadar wanted to go and just sit between them and bask in the peace, but that felt rude. It was rare that the two of them ever sat down without even their usual arguing, and Kadar did not want to ruin that.

He hummed in thought, tracing a circle on the floor with his foot. The bench was too short for proper leg swinging, so this was a good compromise. Malik and Altair didn’t need it, but Kadar thought that playing guard would be good for them. They both knew he was there, of course, but as long as he made it seem that he was doing something else, Malik wouldn’t make him go over there to eat.

Such a mother hen, Malik was. He was a good parent, and an even better big brother. Kadar absolutely loved him, and was grateful for all that he had done for Kadar. Still continued to do. Malik could be callous and had a temper towards others, but he never, ever turned it on Kadar. Irritation, sure, and he often yelled at Kadar when he did something stupid, but never true anger.

He never turned that temper on Altair, either, no matter how much Malik yelled and argued at him. Malik more readily attacked with his words, but never in actual anger. Never with the intent to truly  _ hurt _ . And when he did, it rarely took Malik more than a moment to apologize. Malik and Altair held each other accountable for their actions, and it made the both of them stronger for it.

Altair took care of Kadar, too. Not like Malik, who was a parent and a big brother all at once, but similar. Malik mentioned it once, that Altair helped raise Kadar, but in a way that Malik didn’t quite get. It irritated him, but nothing beyond Malik’s usual level of affectionate irritation.

Kadar wondered when everyone would see that Altair didn’t just  _ wish _ he had been born with wings. His wings weren’t physically there, but they existed all the same. Kadar didn’t have Altair’s second sight, but that didn’t mean one didn’t  _ learn _ to  _ see _ when presented with something all the same. It may have taken Kadar a long time to actually ask about Altair and his seven other selves, but he never, ever had to ask about the wings.

About Altair being an eagle. From what Kadar had gathered, everyone thought that it was Altair’s father that named him. No one really straight up asked Altair, like Kadar did. Altair told Kadar that his mother had chosen the name before she died.

No one really talked about Altair’s mother for some reason, even though she was a Sister. It was probably because she was foreign; Kadar and Altair had similarly light colored eyes, and people said that was usually how they told apart Saracens from Christians.

But the name- Altair’s mother was the one that named him. No one really knew where Altair’s second sight came from, but Kadar thought it might be from his mother. After all, if she was the one to name him, then she had to see the wings. Right? At least that was what Kadar thought, even if he hadn’t told anyone else.

Altair was an eagle in human skin, and Kadar- and Rauf- were the only ones to see it. It must be difficult, being earth bound and no wings to fly with. Then again, Altair flew to seven other selves in seven other places. That must be enough to keep Altair grounded. Pun maybe intended.

And that was how Altair raised Kadar. Like an eagle looking out for their eaglet. Altair was kind, and protective, but completely aware that as Assassins, they were being raised to kill people. Malik wasn’t  _ unable  _ to do that, but he was hesitant to. Altair moved forward anyways. Altair handed Kadar his first knife and taught him how  _ not _ to hurt himself, without showing any worry. Malik taught Kadar similar things, but he couldn’t hide the worry. Not from Kadar.

Come to think of it, that was probably why Altair was the one to teach Kadar most of his new sword style. Malik kept a close eye on them, of course, since he refused to let Altair teach Kadar his specialty without supervision. But distance was still distance. Kadar didn’t think they knew that was what they were doing, though. Maybe? At least, it wasn’t something that the two of them would ever actually discuss.

“Kadar!” Malik called, taking him from his thoughts. Kadar turned to his brother. “If you’re just going to sit there, you may as well sit over here.”

“Okay,” Kadar agreed, and walked to his brother and Altair. They still looked calm, which was good. He sat down next to Malik, which put him across from Altair.

He thought about mentioning that Malik and Altair were sitting close enough to let him in, but that would probably be taken badly. Malik and Altair had the ‘if we don’t talk about it it’s okay’ thing going on. Which, considering Altair’s whole ‘secrets are generally not good’ thing he had, was strange. Unless they just  _ didn’t know _ , which Kadar absolutely refused to think was true. Malik and Altair were too smart to not be aware of themselves.

“What are you thinking so heavily about?” Malik asked.

“...nothing,” Kadar said. He took the food Malik handed him, almost automatically at this point. Experience told him he’d never get anywhere if he tried to refuse.

“That was pretty heavy thinking silence for ‘nothing’,” Altair commented.

Kadar shook his head. “Nothing important, at least. Mostly just that you two weren’t arguing.”

“We don’t always argue,” Malik said grouchily.

“I know, I know,” Kadar said, “It’s peaceful when you don’t.”

“Like we aren’t always peaceful?” Altair asked amusedly. Malik scowled at him.

Well, there they went. Hm, what to say- ah. “It just- it reminded me of when I was small, and we used to nap together,” Kadar said. It stopped Malik’s rebuttal in its tracks. Good.

“We still share a room,” Altair said.

“Yeah, but we don’t nap together just for sleeping,” Kadar said. He didn’t bother mentioning how often they shared a bed when any of them had a nightmare. Or if Kadar needed to sit on one of them to make sure they stayed in bed while injured. They knew that already.

“Do you want to?” Altair asked curiously, head tilted slightly.

“...maybe?” Kadar said, trailing off. Now that it was brought up, it did sound nice.

“Then we can,” Altair said, shrugging. “I usually nap on the parapet, away from the wind. But we can nap in our room, if you want.”

“Malik?” Kadar asked, looking at him.

Malik rolled his eyes, but he smiled softly at Kadar. “Yeah, yeah, fine, we can start taking naps together again.”

Kadar beamed at him. Naps did sound nice, and- well, these two weren’t his parents, but they did pretty much raise him. There really was no safer, more comfortable place to sleep. It had been a few years since the three of them fit in a bed together, but Kadar remembered that much.

0o0o0

The thunderstorm woke Petruccio up, the loud  _ crack _ nearly scaring him to death. He sat up, and stared out the windows- the curtains were open somewhat, so he could see the pounding rain against it. He swallowed, staring uncertainly out the window.

Would it hold? It had to, the building was already a couple of centuries old, and there had been many thunderstorms since…

A bright, momentary flash, there and gone so quickly Petruccio almost thought he imagined it. Not a moment later, another loud  _ crack-boom _ of thunder, this time sounding almost above. He started trembling.

Oh no. The heavy rain, he could handle. After the first few minutes it had even been soothing as it hit the windows and the roof. Even the wind was okay, since the building was well built and didn’t let a breeze through. But the lightning and the  _ thunder _ -

Petruccio climbed out of bed, careful, and pulled his top blanket with him. He wrapped himself under it, and walked carefully to the door. It was incredibly dark outside, and all of the candles they used to light the house were out. The floor was cold under his bare feet, but at least the hallway was quieter than his bedroom.

He knocked on Claudia’s door, since her bedroom was across from his. He waited a moment, and raised his hand to knock again. Before he could, the door was pulled open, Claudia standing there in her night clothes, also wrapped up in one of her spare blankets.

“Petruccio?” Claudia whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“...the thunder woke me up,” Petruccio said, and shivered under his blanket. The floor was actually pretty cold, and his blanket could only do so much. At least he didn’t see his breath. He should have put on his slippers, but it was too late for that.

“Did you get scared?” Claudia asked.

“...maybe?”

“Okay, come on,” Claudia said, and stepped into the hallway. “I got scared too. The thunder is  _ really _ loud this time.”

“Where we going?” Petruccio asked.

Claudia took his hand in hers and led them down the hall with cautious and quiet steps. Not that they needed to be  _ too _ quiet, not with the thunderstorm. But quiet was important. Father said so, and that they’d learn properly why when they were older.

“To go to Federico or Ezio’s room,” Claudia said.

“Why?”

“Because they might be scared too,” Claudia told him.

“But they’re not scared of anything,” Petruccio said confusedly.

_ Claudia _ was mostly not scared of anything. It’s why he went to her first, because she was braver than he was.

“That’s a lie,” Claudia snorting. If Mother was awake, she’d reprimand her for the very unladylike sound. “But they are brave, even if I’ll never tell them that to their faces,” she said, and pressed her finger to her lips.

“Oh,” Petruccio said. That made sense. He stopped being scared of cats this past year. Maybe you got less scared the older you got? He hoped he stopped being afraid of thunderstorms soon. You couldn’t hide from storms like you could cats.

Claudia stopped at Ezio’s bedroom door and knocked hard a few times. Petruccio could tell that she’d put her hands on her hips, but didn’t. She still held his hand, and he really didn't mind. It was nice.

The door opened, and Ezio blinked tiredly at him. His hair was mussed and half of his face had a red imprint from his pillow. He looked  _ silly _ . Petruccio giggled lightly.

“Claudia? Petruccio? What are you two doing here?” Ezio asked groggily.

He took in Petruccio, who was huddled under a blanket with only his head and his hand holding Claudia’s visible, and Claudia, who wore her blanket like a shawl. Both of them were barefoot. Ezio blinked and rubbed his eyes, looking more awake. Petruccio thought he might be worried at their appearance.

“If you couldn’t tell, there’s a thunderstorm going on,” Claudia said, “And Petruccio was scared.”

Ezio raised an eyebrow at her, and then looked towards Federico’s room with golden eyes. “Well, if we’re all awake we might as well go see if Federico is as well.”

“You’re not scared of thunderstorms?” Petruccio asked.

“Not really,” Ezio said. “They’re scary, for sure, I’m just not scared.”

“Oh,” Petruccio said. Things could be scary, but you didn’t need to be scared. Like cats. He wasn’t scared of cats anymore, but he could admit they were still scary.

Ezio reached out and started combing his fingers through Petruccio’s hair. Petruccio leaned into the contact. Not a moment later, Ezio raised his other hand to do the same to Claudia. She huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but she allowed the contact still. They were both used to it at this point; preening was one of the ways Ezio showed affection, when it wasn’t hugs.

“Come on,” Ezio said after a moment, and led them to Federico’s room across the hall. He knocked a few times, and yawned. “Federico, wake up-” Ezio called through the door.

“What are you even doing here this late?” Federico asked blearily when he opened the door. He glared slightly at Ezio, then turned to Petruccio and Claudia. “Are you okay?” Federico asked Petruccio, who was still wrapped up entirely in his blanket.

“I’m okay. I was scared though,” Petruccio said. He didn’t like the thunderstorm any more than he did previously, but he wasn’t scared with his siblings all there.

“And you two?” Federico asked Ezio and Claudia.

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” Ezio said easily, “we’re here now. You going to let us in?”

Federico sighed, but he smiled at them and let the three of them in his room. “We’re a bit old to all sleep together, aren’t we?”

“Never,” Ezio said simply. “Taking naps together is one of most comfortable things.”

“Do you always sleep with Elise?” Petruccio asked.

He liked Elise. She was a wonderful big sister. Not that he didn’t like any of the others, though. Elise was just always there. Ezio was learning to draw so that he could show them what the others actually looked like. Petruccio looked forward to it, because they all sounded so  _ different _ .

“Whenever we can,” Ezio confirmed. “And the others, too, though not all at once. Not enough space in any of our beds for eight people.”

“Sounds nice,” Petruccio said.

“It is,” Ezio agreed. “Now, up. You can sleep in the middle, Petruccio. I see you shivering- it’ll keep you warmer.”

“Okay,” Petruccio agreed. He was  _ always _ cold. Desmond had said he was like a lizard, the last time he brought it up around him.

And with that, Ezio herded the four of them back into bed. Petruccio was warm and comfortable in the middle, with Ezio at his back and Claudia in front of him, and Federico behind her. He and Claudia were still small enough that even though Federico and Ezio were much taller than them, they all fit comfortably on the bed.

It was nice. Petruccio closed his eyes and wondered if they could all sleep together more often. It certainly made ignoring the thunder easier.

0o0o0

They were captives. Well treated and well taught, but captives all the same. The younger girls all set their sights on the near impossible task of becoming favored by the Emperor, hoping to rise in the ranks and therefore in power. The older women didn’t warn them against it; the ambition would serve them well, and provide some measure of protection. They were all competition in the long run.

That didn’t mean they were enemies, though. The older women, the one who had aged in and out but all the more valuable for the skills they passed on, knew this. Either through being taught by their own predecessors, or through the hard way. Ambition and rivalry was all good when it pushed them forward. But they were all captives the same way.

It was as such that when possible, the women all arranged for the girls and young women to play together. Whether just games they made up on their own, or strategic games that were also meant to teach, or just tussle like the children of peasants. Their lives were meant for the pleasure of others. They might as well include their own pleasure in that.

“Jun, you are over tired,” Meilin said, pulling Jun’s long hair into a loose braid. It was thick and long and Jun was rather proud of it, especially since it moved so fluidly when she danced.

“I am not,” Jun replied easily, leaning into the elder’s touch. And she wasn’t! She wouldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t  _ tired _ , but Jun was by no means like the younger children who seemed to gain  _ more _ energy the more they needed sleep.

“The fact that you are arguing with me is proof enough that you need to head to bed,” Meilin said dryly, tugging at a section of hair in reprimand.

“But-”

“No buts,” Meilin said, “since you’re being so obstinate, you can head to the sleeping room.” It was said like a punishment, but it most certainly was not.

It was the most secure of the rooms the concubines inhabited. The Emperor wasn’t  _ not _ allowed anywhere he wished, but through concentrated efforts of the concubines, the room where they all slept together was often ignored. It was where they didn’t have to act completely on decorum, like in the places where they could be checked on randomly.

“...okay,” Jun sighed, not wanting to put up a fight.

She, with seven other people in her head, had started to prefer when there was at least one other person with her when she slept. It had been several weeks since Jun had not slept with one of the others, either here or wherever they were.

Jun liked the physical contact, and she did have her friends here. They weren’t as close as Jun was with her other selves, that was impossible, but she wasn’t alone. Maybe Zhang would be able to sleep there tonight, as well. They had to be careful and plan who got to sleep in their main rooms or their sleeping room. One never knew when the Emperor or those allowed to use the concubines called upon their services.

Later, Jun curled up to another, their legs tangled together. To her back, there was another, arms curled to her chest and arms against Jun’s back. It was warm, and comfortable, and Jun sighed as she felt herself drifting off. Regardless of- literally  _ everything _ else about her situation, this was something she would never change for the world.

0o0o0

Gerard hummed as he finished cleaning and closing up the shop. It was necessary after a long day, and he found the repetitive motions soothing. As he did, he mentally went through all of the information he had gained from his network, automatically organizing it. A more thorough organization would happen before he turned in for the night, where it would not interrupt his sleep.

He was a trained Assassin, though he would never reach the rank of Master. He was competent in his skills, and could run and fight. But though his fighting spirit was strong, there was a clear difference between physical fighting and everything else. His talents lied in information and social grace.

Aveline could dance through a crowd like a shadow, unseen and unnoticed, the epitome of grace as a noblewoman.

Gerard did the same, but made it that no one  _ remembered _ him instead.

He  _ liked _ his work. Maybe it wasn’t the intense action and fighting he imagined when he first started out, but Gerard was suited to it. There was more to being an Assassin than violence and death. It was protecting the people, much like his own family was not. Much like so many people were not. To  _ protect _ to the best of their ability, Assassins needed  _ information _ . And Gerard was very, very good at information.

Gerard hummed as he finished, locking the front door. He wondered what Aveline was up to. She was often flitting about from place to place, energetic and restless. He understood why, of course, but he hoped she settled down soon. Not for him, or any other, but just for her own peace of mind. Mayhaps she would find that peace in the work she did, but Gerard felt there was a difference in working for duty’s sake and working for peace.

He left the building through the back door, double checking the lock, and went on his way home.

Gerard frowned when he entered his home, noting that something was slightly  _ off _ about it. Nothing was out of place that he could tell, nor were any of his simple traps that alerted him that someone had entered. But the air was different, and he grabbed a walking cane from near the entrance.

Nothing on the first floor. He checked on the doors, and they were locked. There wasn't any foreign tracks. Gerard looked up the stairs. Well then. He took a fortifying breath and started climbing, doing his best to stay silent. And, as an Assassin, his best was  _ very _ good.

His office. It held a lot of important papers, both for managing the business he and Aveline inherited from Philippe de Grandpre, and the even  _ more _ important papers regarding the Order of Assassins.

Of course, the other papers were hidden even beyond the usual security one might afford as a businessman, but that didn’t mean they were foolproof. And one who could sneak into his house without leaving a trace was no fool at all.

Gerard opened the door slightly, his walking cane in hand. He peeked through and- let out a large sigh when he saw the familiar silhouette of Aveline.

“Aveline, what are you doing here?” he asked, leaving the cane by the door. “Is everything well?”

Aveline turned to him, blinking surprisedly. She still looked lost in thought- ah. She must have been with one of her other selves.

It was an odd experience, learning that she didn’t exist by herself, but Gerard was grateful for the explanation. For one, much of the questions he had regarding Aveline and how she appeared so distracted at times without an overlaying illness as an excuse was done away with. Another was that Gerard just liked to know things about Aveline.

“Ah, Gerard, you’re back!” Aveline said smiling at him.

Gerard returned the smile.

Most importantly, with Gerard knowing Aveline’s most important secret, she had become more and more open with him. He had felt betrayed that his best friend had not told him such an important secret for all of a couple minutes before he realized what it meant.

Aveline wasn’t just keeping a secret for  _ herself _ , but for eight. That they all agreed to tell Gerard meant he had the trust of eight separate people. It was a heady feeling, especially as Aveline admitted to just  _ who _ she shared her soul with.

“Aveline,” Gerard greeted, “I am always glad to see you, but are you well? Normally you’d have at least greeted me so I wasn’t sneaking through my own home.”

Aveline blinked, and sighed heavily. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. Gerard lifted his hands to her shoulders, resting them gently there.

Aveline always did seem so affectionate for a noblewoman, easy with her touch in ways that could be considered entirely too improper. It was another thing that was explained away with her other selves; Aveline was accustomed to casual physical contact with others, and it extended to others beyond the eight of them.

“Aveline?” Gerard asked softly.

“I just- it wasn’t anything  _ bad _ , it was just a long, long day,” Aveline said. She stood up, but didn’t dislodge Gerard’s hands from her shoulders. She smiled wryly. “I am sorry for not leaving more of a sign that I was here.”

“Something to remember the next time you show up unannounced,” Gerard said simply. Because they were Assassins. There were always unannounced visits. Mostly through windows and other high entrances. At least when they didn’t walk through the front door, which was always a treat.

“Yeah,” Aveline agreed, and this time her smile was more amused. Still small, but true. She looked to the side, eyes focused on something unseen.  _ Someone _ . Gerard hummed a question; oh, but he was so glad not to be worried about possible hallucinations. Aveline turned back to him and said hesitantly, “...do you mind if I spend the night, here?”

Gerard blinked in surprise. He knew not to read too much into it. He loved Aveline, yes, but he respected her much more. And after knowing her for as long as he did, he could safely say that he could read her moods easily. The manor that Aveline lived in was large and empty, and frankly, a little lonely. He understood the want to spend the night in a building with a friend.

“No, absolutely not,” Gerard said. “I do have a spare bed, though it won’t be up to the standards you’re normally used to.”

“Ha- you overestimate my standards,” Aveline said amusedly, “Which, I promise, it being an actual bed  _ at all _ meets them all. But-”

“But?” Gerard asked, frow burrowed.

Aveline looked at Gerard, as if trying to figure out a reaction. She sighed. “I wasn’t asking to sleep in a different bed.”

“...oh,” Gerard said, and flushed, taking his hands off of her shoulders. “Not-”

“No,” Avelie said dryly. Her face smoothed, and she sighed again. “It’s- I’ve not slept alone since I was eight. And it’s enough, but the others are all saying that sleeping with people that are  _ physically _ there is much… it’s different, and maybe better, than just being in contact with them. And you are the only one here that I trust, so-”

Gerard raised both his eyebrows as he took in what looked to be Aveline  _ rambling _ . She never rambled. If she was anxious enough not to speak well, she normally became quiet. This was an entirely new side he hadn’t seen of her before.

“No, no, I understand,” Gerard said.

And he did, though he did have to think about it. Humans were very social creatures all told. Physical touch was incredibly important. For Assassins, maybe even most of all. There was much time spent doing some pretty dark things in the name of the light they so faithfully served, and to share something  _ good _ with a trusted person would be- important.

And if Aveline truly spent her training with her other selves as she said she did- and Gerard had absolutely no reason not to believe her- then that could also be an explanation as to why she always pushed forward. There was nothing to bring her spirits down as heavily if she was supported all the way through.

And, for Gerard to be  _ trusted _ enough that they didn’t mind sharing a bed with him-

“I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you,” Gerard said, smiling. Who knows, maybe he needed the physical contact himself. It wasn’t as if he had any friends he came into contact with often.

Aveline smiled at him, her eyes brightening.

0o0o0

  
  



	21. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of all the cuddles and soft family feelings
> 
> achilles is wonderful and a good Dad(tm), arno absolutely loves elise even before he falls in love with her, ned should've known from the start that he'd never get rid of the twins, and here we are introduced to my ocs who absolutely love desmond like everyone should
> 
> do you know how annoying it is that we know nothing about desmond's time in new york. it offers a lot of creative freedom but come on. also, i wish i had a mandatory nap time with my friends because that sounds amazing.

Achilles thought he had died. It started with the deaths of Abigail and Connor, to the fever, and then with each and every subsequent loss to the Templars. As the years passed, he didn’t know if he had died with his wife and child, or if it was a slow death.

But still, his spirit had withered away and his body had yet to catch up. He existed on the Homestead, waiting, his old wounds aching in the cold winters and hot summers. He didn’t care.

Some days, he wondered why Haytham Kenway had let him live. Other days he knew it was because this long wait for death was torture in itself. Time passed by, unnoticed save for the changing of the seasons, and Achilles didn’t care. He was dead, and now he just waited for his body to follow.

At least until that whelp of a Native boy started pounding on his goddamned door.

Achilles didn’t know what prompted to take the kid in, when years of isolation, depression, and sheer stubbornness screamed at him to send him away. There was no need to take in and train a child when Achilles was dead. He wouldn’t do that to himself, and enough heart remained that he refused to do that to a child, either.

He didn’t count on the kid managing to out stubborn him. And what a kid this was; he was practically half-trained as an Assassin already. He climbed and tracked well, and was drawn to shiny things like the magpies Assassins tended to be- a sign that the child had Eagle Vision, as well.

Achilles waited for the kid to leave, but kept a distant eye on him. This was still his property, and his history, and he refused to let some random child from the woods cause a mess. What he saw, despite it all, _damn_ _him_ , intrigued Achilles.

The kid- Ratonhnhaké:ton, and Achilles  _ could _ pronounce the name just fine, thank you, but if the kid really wished to be an Assassin, then he’d best start getting used to how people would treat him- saw spirits.

Which, frankly, explained a lot. One, why he would search for the Assassins in the first place. Goddamn Ezio Auditore, who opened the cork bottle and started a whole mess of things with the artifacts from bygone eras. And also, Ratonhnhaké:ton’s odd behavior.

Oh, he seemed to control the impulse well, but Achilles did not reach his rank or his age by not being observant. Even a few years out of practice as he was.

The way Ratonhnhaké:ton looked,  _ focused _ , on things and people not there. The way he tilted his head in a direction towards a sound unheard, much too pronounced for the kid just having better hearing than Achilles. How he made subtle movements, as if responding to something. The kid didn’t just see the spirit that directed him to the Homestead, but others as well.

Not that it was any of Achilles business. The spirits seemed helpful regardless. Ratonhnhaké:ton wasn’t hampered by it, and that was all that mattered in this case.

Despite it all, despite Achilles stubbornness, despite his refusals, despite his denials, despite the fact that for all intents and purposes, Achilles should be dead- he couldn’t help but like the kid. He was honest and curious, and had an observant eye.

Just as Achilles watched him, the kid watched Achilles in turn. Achilles didn’t want to know what, exactly, Ratonhnhaké:ton observed in the old Assassin, but he couldn’t deny that it was good for the kid.

And, yes, Ratonhnhaké:ton did have Eagle Vision. His second sight, he called it, and brought up something that Achilles had wondered at prior, though never confirmed with the others who also had Eagle Vision. The ability and its uses was the same for everyone that had it, but everyone perceived that use differently.

Achilles himself saw the world as grains of colored… well, grain. The colors were the same: red, blue, golden, white, and grey, but the intensity of a particular emotion or status was portrayed by how dense the granules were around the person.

Helpful, when Achilles wanted to know if people were his enemy based on the color his skin versus hating the Assassin. Much different to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who said that people and things appeared  _ as _ the color.

If Achilles  _ also _ started watching as the color started drifting away from the kid to attach itself to figures that technically shouldn’t be there, like grain settling on shoulders and in the creases of clothes… well. Still wasn’t his business.

Achilles knew that life would be easier in the long run if Ratonhnhaké:ton was given a second name. And, despite the ache in his heart, he gave him the name  _ Connor _ . The kid took the name with grace, even if he didn’t understand the need.

And… as time passed, though the ache still remained, it lessened. Because Connor suited the kid. He wore the name well. If Achilles hadn’t watched as he slowly got used to responding to the name, he might have thought that Connor had been his name from the beginning.

There was no replacing his son. That loss and ache still remained even years later. But as Achilles trained Connor, and watched him grow into a man… no one said that he wasn’t allowed more than one son.

Even if he seemed dead set on killing Achilles through sheer stress.

Like, say for example, taking all of the children out to wear them out and to give their parents’ some free time, and not coming back at the time he said they would.

“And you haven’t seen any of them recently?” Achilles asked Prudence, who wrung her hands in worry.

Of course the one day that his knee barely bothered him something like this happened. It’s why he never hoped for good days anymore. Achilles can’t have nice things without something else coming along and ruining it.

“No,” Prudence said, shaking her head. “It’s not that I don’t trust Connor- oh, I trust him to guard our children with his life. But it’s been several hours, Hunter’s missed one of his set meal times, and it’s- oh, I’m just  _ worried _ .”

Achilles hummed, and stretched how far he could sense with Eagle Vision. He rarely used the ability anymore, had no need of it, but he always made sure to keep the children’s presence memorized. Memories of his son told him that that was a  _ good idea _ all told, as it saved he and Abigail much grief when Connor had just started walking.

“Let’s check the barn,” Achilles said, turning in that direction.

“But- why would they be there?” Prudence asked, following alongside him.

“Children love animals and would sleep with them if allowed,” Achilles said dryly. “And as strong and mature as Connor acts, he is still very much a child himself.” Because Connor had the misfortune of hitting  _ all _ of his growth spurts early, and towered over pretty much everyone.

“I see,” Prudence said, brow furrowed. “The other ladies aren’t so worried, but Hunter is only a baby right now. He’s only starting to be weaned off of milk.”

“Your worry is understandable,” Achilles assured her, “Make sure to give Connor a piece of your mind when we find them. But trust me when I say that they are unhurt.”

“How do you tell?”

“It’s a gut feeling,” Achilles said. “Connor and I share that ability- yes, we have plain old anxiety that hits us from time to time, but that tends to be different than what we feel in our guts.”

Which was a handy explanation of Eagle Vision. He could get into the technical details all he liked, but Eagle Vision was an Assassin’s skill. Prudence didn’t need to hear it.

Prudence expression smoothed out, and she looked more thoughtful than not. Her brow still furrowed with worry, but she didn’t look quite as concerned.

Good. Achilles  _ really _ couldn’t handle a crying woman.

“Oh, the barn door is open,” Prudence said, frowning at it. “We already let the animals out this morning, I don’t know why it’d be open again.”

Achilles hummed. “I do believe I know where our missing children have gone.”

He and Prudence entered the barn, pausing lightly to let their sight adjust to the dimness. It wasn’t dark with the sun shining through open windows, but the shadows were deep below the hay lofts. Achilles glanced around, Eagle Vision activated, and blinked.

“Oh,” he said, watching, before he could call out Connor’s name. He stopped using Eagle Vision to see what he was looking at looked like in regular vision.

Prudence followed his line of sight and gasped lightly, bringing her hands to her mouth. “Oh no,” she said softly, a smile growing on her face, “That’s  _ adorable _ . Oh, I wished I had a way to paint this right now, I want to remember this forever.”

Achilles would never say it out loud, but it absolutely was adorable.

Connor laid in a pile of hay, with a horse blanket over the top to prevent the group of them from sinking into it. Hunter was sleeping on his chest, sucking a thumb, with Connor’s hand on his back to hold him in place. The other children all used Connor’s broad frame as a pillow, curled up alongside him, with one of them snoring. One child was actually spread out, with his sister resting her legs across his chest.

“Oh dear,” Prudence said again, and stepped closer quietly. “I don’t want to wake them up. They look so peaceful.”

“Did you need them right away?” Achilles asked softly, watching them.

He had known Connor was good with children, but to wrangle  _ this _ lot into all settling down for a nap… that honestly might be one of the most impressive things Connor had done while on the Homestead.

Achilles had known that Connor was prone to napping when he had the time for it. He didn’t shirk any of his duties or chores, but when time permitted, he would spend an hour or two napping kind of anywhere. In a tree, in his room, in a wooden cart, and one very memorable occasion on the rooftop. Achilles honestly should have expected this.

“I’d like to take Hunter to feed him, but I think that can wait until he wakes up on his own,” Prudence said. “Do you think we can bring everyone here before they all wake up? I imagine Ellen especially would like to see her daughter sleeping so peacefully.”

Well, Connor was stirring lightly, as he felt their focus on him. Still, it was evident that he trusted them with how slow he was to wake, and Achilles swallowed against the bubbling happiness in his chest. With the children sleeping, Connor wouldn’t move for a good while yet.

“Well, we can try,” Achilles said.

Prudence grinned and left the barn quietly. Achilles kept his attention on the kids. Honestly, just looking at them made him sleepy. He wasn’t so old that he needed to sleep in the middle of the day, was he?

0o0o0

Arno bounced lightly in place, doing his best not to cause a ruckus. He had already been teased enough by his friends, no need for the servants to do the same. Not that that ever stopped  _ gossip _ . He couldn’t help it, though. Elise was returning from her schooling for a mid-winter break!

Oh, how he’d missed her. He had fun, roaming the streets and causing non-violent problems for the people of Paris, but it wasn’t the same without Elise. She’d often borrowed Arno’s clothing when they were younger, as they were the same size then, and led him around. It was exciting, sneaking out.

He didn’t think it was the problems they caused together that made her be sent off to a school. It wasn’t like they weren’t able to afford tutors. Arno was still being tutored in Paris, after all. But Elise had been sent off, and he’d missed her the entire time she was gone.

But! She was returning today! Not for long, unfortunately, but at least he could see her. Letters really weren’t the same at all.

“Master Arno, you’re being a nuisance! Go take a long walk and calm down,” one of the servants, Clara, hissed and pushed him out towards the back entrance.

“But Elise is coming back!” Arno said.

“I know, I’m excited that she is as well! But we’ve all got jobs to do, and your fidgeting is distracting!” Clara said. “She’ll get here when she gets here. And she’ll be excited to see you as well! Now go!”

“Fine, fine!” Arno said, pouting, and went to do as Clara bid him to do.

It really wasn’t her place to do so, but Clara did what she wanted. Her obstinance served her well in this particular household. Besides, Arno was somewhat of an outsider here himself, and the servants were all used to him being underfoot.

He decided that he’d wait in Elise’s room. She wouldn’t be bringing much luggage, she was too practical for that, so there wasn’t anyone that would be entering her room. It had been cleaned the previous day, too, so it wasn’t like a maid would be stumbling in either. And Elise would be carrying her own luggage, for the most part.

Elise’s bed it was. It also had the benefit of being just so  _ very _ comfortable. Arno’s own bedroom wasn’t bad, by any means, as he’d adjusted everything to suit his tastes. But Elise’s room was comfortable in an entirely different way.

Arno face planted into the mattress and sighed heavily, contentedly. He could wait for Elise here. Then they could go out and explore like they did before. Paris was a city that continuously changed, after all, and Elise had been gone for months. She’d like to see what was different than before.

He didn’t mean to, but Arno fell asleep. He woke up maybe a few hours later when he felt the bed shift and someone place a hand on his head. He blinked tiredly up and-

“Arno, you fell asleep waiting for me?” Elise asked, smiling amusedly.

“Elise!” Arno exclaimed. He sat up quickly and tackled her to the bed. “You’re back!”

Elise laughed and wrapped him in a hug. “I am! Did you miss me?”

“I missed you a lot,” Arno said seriously, face pressed into her shoulder. “Paris just isn’t the same without you here.”

“School is no fun without you there, either,” Elise said.

“Yeah, but you have seven other selves to keep you company. I don’t have another Elise,” Arno said, tightening his arms.

“Still didn’t have fun without you,” Elise said, pressing her cheek to his. “Now get off me, I need to change out of my traveling clothes.”

Arno grumbled but did as she asked. Elise quickly climbed out of bed and started pulling off her heavy traveling dress, revealing the trousers underneath, as well as the thinner and more comfortable shirt.

“Weren’t you warm, wearing all those layers?” Arno asked.

“I’m always warm with too many layers,” Elise grumbled, rolling her eyes. “But societal norms are what they are. You’ve no idea how much I wish I was with Desmond. There are still a ridiculous amounts of pressure and expectations placed upon women, but  _ dresses _ aren’t one of them.”

“Oh, you sound different,” Arno said, blinking at Elise, “You’re speaking more formally than you did before.”

Elise scrunched her nose, displeased. “Unfortunately. It’s not something I’m  _ against _ , honestly, but it is pressed upon me. I am way too young to be speaking like a grown woman.”

“I don’t know,” Arno mused, “You always did act several times your age regardless.”

Elise rolled her eyes, and pulled off her trousers and shirt. It might’ve been improper, with her just wearing her undergarments and a loose tunic, but they’d grown up together. Any improperness was entirely by personality and not by dress. “Yeah, we’ve heard that before.”

“You ever figure out why?” Arno asked curiously, watching her fold her clothes like she normally did.

Habit, she said, from Jun and Desmond. They were neat to a fault. The others didn’t have nearly the amount of clothes that needed actual care. Ezio, of course, was a mess, when he didn’t have several different people nagging him into cleanliness.

“Evie thinks it’s because we add our experiences as a whole instead of living even a little separately,” Elise said, shrugging lightly. “We live our lives as we, individually, but we sort of share everything, even if we don’t mean to. And since we all live rather eventful and exciting lives, it adds up.”

“So you’re basically eighty years old, then,” Arno said, “If you’re adding everyone together.”

“If you want to get  _ really _ specific, we’d be eighty-eight years old all together,” Elise said dryly. “But that’s a bit much. And our bodies are still only eleven or twelve, so it’s more like we’re maybe in our twenties.”

“Only maybe?” Arno asked.

Elise shrugged. “Just because the experiences are added together, it doesn’t mean that it’s a logical addition. Sometimes our lives are very exciting, and we remember that. Sometimes it’s just living day to day, and we forget that easily.”

“You’ve just got an old soul,” Arno said, remembering what he’d heard some old ladies say. He didn’t really understand what that meant, but it sounded like it would fit here.

“Yes,” Elise agreed. She looked to him, and studied him. Arno fidgeted just a little. “How much sleep have you been getting, if you fell asleep waiting for me?”

Arno flushed lightly and looked away. “...a full night’s sleep every night?” he offered.

Elise snorted and started walking back to the bed. “I figured. Shove over. I’m tired from traveling and need a nap.”

Arno brightened, and moved over. He took his shoes off, and threw them off the side of the bed. He took his coat off and handed it to Elise, who hung it off the foot of the bed. He didn’t take anything else off, comfortable enough with that.

Elise climbed into bed, and put her face into a pillow. She turned on her side and sighed heavily, and contentedly. She looked off to the side for a moment, speaking with her other selves, and then looked to Arno.

“Come here. We’re having a proper nap time,” Elise said.

Arno laughed and crawled next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. It was a warm enough day that they didn’t bother going under the blankets. He closed his eyes and strained his second sight, so new to him still. And, if he turned his thoughts sideways, he could almost imagine that there were more bodies pressed against theirs.

“Sleep, dummy,” Elise said, and closed her eyes.

“Sleeping,” Arno replied.

0o0o0

Ned hummed in thought as he climbed onto the Train that the Assassins claimed as their Hideout. Of course, it wasn’t the entire train, as that would be impractical to keep running, but they did claim several train cars as their own. Ned was more familiar with the one they used as an office and for research, but it wasn’t the only one they had.

“Oh, Mister Wynert, you’re here,” Henry Green greeted, blinking surprisedly at him.

He didn’t have the twins’ rather impressive second sight- and how that had been a revelation regarding their skills, honestly- but… Assassin. For all that Mister Green acted surprised, he had to have been aware of Ned the moment he stepped foot on the train. Or as close to.

“Hello, Mister Green,” Ned greeted in turn. “I was actually looking for either of the Frye twins. One of the Rooks actually told me that they’d be here.”

Ned had an investment in the Rooks; it might be because Jacob was the one to organize them in the first place, but there was a very refreshing  _ lack _ of expectations placed on Ned whenever he went in that direction.

Ned had been in the city long enough, and had developed his businesses long enough, that most of the Rooks recognized him as  _ Ned Wynert _ , and didn’t ask questions. But the ones that didn’t know took Jacob’s introduction at face value in all honesty, and didn't ask further questions either. Considering that some of the Rooks had figures Ned recognized in the mirror… well, Ned didn’t ask questions. That information was offered or not at all.

“Ah,” Henry said, looking back to another car. He hummed thoughtfully. “Normally, I’d just turn you away. But they trust you, so- they’re in their car, right now.”

Ned blinked at him in surprise. Huh. What were the twins doing that Henry Green acted as a bouncer of sorts? He definitely wasn’t turning down this opportunity for a secret. “So, just head to their car?” he clarified.

Henry nodded. “Yes, it’s the one after the next. Just knock first. They’ll know it’s you.”

“Handy, that second sight of theirs,” Ned commented.

“Yes, it is,” Henry said, looking wistful. “It’s an ability that tends to pop up in Assassins only, because of its utility. It’s not rare, but it’s not common either.”

“Interesting,” Ned said. It was, too. But that wasn’t why he was here. “Thank you for greeting me, Mister Green, but I’m afraid I really must see the twins.”

“Word of warning, Mister Wynert,” Henry said. Ned looked to him, but relaxed lightly when he saw the amused glint in his eye. “You’d best be prepared for this taking a while, for reasons you’re likely not expecting.”

“I’ll see that for myself, thank you,” Ned said, intrigued. He nodded to Mister Green, and walked to the other car.

Ned had never been past the ‘office’ and looked around. He didn’t stay and linger, but he sure made certain to observe as much as he could.

The next car appeared to be storage, and Ned noted amusedly how many spare hats Jacob kept on the rafters. Ned had wondered about that. It looked mostly like non-perishable foods, spare clothing, and weapons maintenance items as well as a load of extra weapons in general.

He walked to the next car, the one that was the twins sleeping and/or personal space. He knocked loudly and sharply, and waited. Assassins. They’d answer or not, and to knock some more when they all knew they heard it would be rude.

He waited for a long moment, before the door to the car opened. Miss Evie Frye stood there, and Ned blinked in shock at the state of her dress. He wasn’t one to judge on what one wore, but he had gotten used to a certain sense of poise from Evie.

Instead of her usual thick leather and cloth hood and armor, she wore what looked very much like pajamas. It was a simple set of trousers and a short-sleeved shirt. Her hair was in a loose braid, and Ned saw that it was much longer than her usual braids made it seem, tumbling down even past her hips.

“Ned, you’re here!” Evie said, smiling at him.

“Hello, Evie,” Ned said in response automatically. “You look rather cozy.”

“Ha, yeah,” Evie said, and stepped aside to let Ned in. “Is what you want urgent enough that we need to dress?” Evie’s voice was throaty with sleep. Ned had known the twins came from the countryside, but now he  _ heard _ it. He’d been in London long enough that he had gained an ear for the various accents.

“No, it’s merely discussion. No need for that,” Ned assured.

“That’s good,” Evie said, and yawned. “Because today is our day off. Emergencies only.”

“Assassins have days off?” Ned asked amusedly.

“These ones do,” Jacob said, sitting up in bed. He wore a sleeveless shirt, leaving his tattooed arms on display. It was of the same color and style as Evie’s. Ned smiled lightly, and debated on mentioning how the twins matched.

Evie didn’t go to another bed, as Ned had expected, but dropped next to Jacob and leaned into his shoulder. The way they both looked, with Evie’s bangs framing her face, and the half-lidded  _ sleepy _ look the two gave him… Ned thought the two had never looked so alike. Of course it happened when they were half-asleep like children.

“What’d you need, Ned?” Jacob asked. He peered at Ned. “Nothing important, is it?”

“Well, it’s important enough for me to come here, if that’s what you mean,” Ned said, “But it’s not urgent, so feel free to remain as you are.”

“Good,” Jacob said firmly. “You got free time today?”

“...yes, somewhat, but I do still have my duties,” Ned said, “Why?”

“If you’re here, you got to take the day off too,” Evie said simply. “We were napping, you know. You need a nap too.”

“Really?” Ned asked flatly, staring at them.

“Bah, don’t act like you’re above naps,” Jacob said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, it’s comfy. We’re all human, we need contact.”

“Promise, it’s good for you,” Evie said, smiling amusedly at him. “Nothing as energizing as a good nap with family and friends.”

“Do you sleep with Henry?” Ned asked.

“Of course,” Jacob said, blinking in surprise as if Ned asked something ridiculous. “Assassins tend to be huggy people in general, you know, with those they trust.”

“Jacob also naps with some of his Rooks,” Evie said. “Those that care to at least.”

Ned sighed, recognizing that stubborn look. “I am a rather busy man, if you recall.”

“Pshh,” Jacob said, and flailed a hand in Ned’s direction. “Yeah, yeah. Still said you had some free time today.”

“You don’t have to sleep in our bed, but I do insist on you sleeping here,” Evie said, and motioned to the other bed in the train car. “Promise, nothing improper.”

Ned sighed. “You aren’t going to let me leave unless I agree to this, are you?” he asked. Now he knew why Henry Green had looked so amused at him going there.

“Nope,” Jacob agreed.

“You can nap, and then we can discuss what you came here for,” Evie added.

Ned stared at them. At this point, he knew that he really couldn’t escape. For all that they were listing on each other’s shoulders, and acted tired, Ned just  _ knew _ that one or both of them would chase him down to make sure he didn’t leave.

He glanced at his watch. “One. Hour. That’s all I have,” Ned said, narrowing his eyes.

“Of course,” Evie agreed, and the twins both smiled smugly.

Assholes.

Even if a nap did sound lovely.

0o0o0

Ami sighed and took her glasses off to rub at her eyes. Oh, but she was tired. It had been a long day of programming their new phones, and an even longer double-checking their network security.

It was nowhere near as powerful as it would be in even five years, but as long as she stayed ahead of the market, they’d be fine. Computer tech was on a steep incline, with civilian tech catching up rapidly to everything off market. The Assassins and Templars might be the ones introducing a lot of the tech, but people weren't  _ stupid _ . They took what was presented to them and ran with it.

She blinked when she registered a hand holding a bowl of pasta in front of her. It looked like alfredo, which was risky. Ami had a come-and-go lactose intolerance, and right now she was in the mid-swing. Another hand came into her field of vision with lactose pills.

Oh. Never mind, she’d be okay.

“Eat, Ami,” Tristan said, and held the bowl and pills in front of Ami until Ami took them from her. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I was busy,” Ami said, blinking tiredly up at her. Oh, there was the eye strain. She needed to work on that.

“And you’ll be busy tomorrow too, like we always are,” Tristan said. She sat down in another chair and grabbed her own bowl. “But it’s mandatory nap time with Boss.”

“Already?” Ami asked, popping a couple of lactose pills and drinking the room-temperature water on her desk.

“You haven’t come up from work all day,” Tristan said. “You’ve been good all week, so Boss decided that you could take today as a full work day.”

Ami sighed. “I’m going to have to take tomorrow off, aren’t I?”

“Maybe only a little,” Tristan said amusedly. “But then again, Ziv and Seda both had busy days too. I think Boss might be planning something.”

“For us, or for us to do?” Ami asked. It could go either way. Or maybe both. Desmond tended to move things around so that they had something to do, and the results often helped them out greatly.

“For us, I think,” Tristan mused. “He’s being very shifty about it, and that only happens when-”

“When he wants to do something nice for us,” Ami finished. Desmond didn’t have a deceitful bone in his body. He was brilliant at keeping secrets when he needed or wanted to, but he didn’t like to lie with those he liked and trusted.

“Anyways, Harper is finally coming back from their trip to Hawaii, so it might be related to that,” Tristan said.

“Oh, really?” Ami asked. It had been a quiet two weeks without their resident thief. Ami had enjoyed the peace for about three days before getting incredibly bored and missing one of her best friends.

“Yeah. Boss probably wants to throw a party,” Tristan said, grinning in anticipation. “And when Boss throws a party-”

“We get drinks made exclusively for us,” Ami said, returning the grin.

“So, that’s something to look forward to,” Tristan said, “Now, finish your food. It’s still mandatory nap time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ami sighed, and ate her alfredo. Maybe not the most difficult dish to make, but it was warm and delicious. That was all that mattered.

Not ten minutes later, after brushing her teeth, Ami climbed into the pile of foam mats that dotted the group bedroom. They had their own rooms, of course, for privacy and storage. But this room was meant for sleeping and napping with other people.

It had been a strange idea at first, but one that they all came to appreciate. Ami didn’t know how touch starved she was until she had access to constant physical contact with other people. Now she couldn’t imagine life any other way.

“Hey,” Desmond said, opening a golden eye to look at them. “Yeah, you’re not working as much tomorrow Ami,” he said.

“Fine,” Ami sighed, and pressed her head between a pillow and Desmond’s chest. He put his arm over her, so that his hand rested against her shoulder.

“We can take a half-day, probably,” Seda said softly, tiredly, voice slightly muffled from her spot under her afghan. “There’s a recipe I want to try out tomorrow.”

“Ooh, is it gonna be a Turkish one or one of the recipes Desmond finds?” Ziv asked.

“I was actually going to try blending a Turkish dish and an Italian dish that Nonna gave us the recipe to,” Seda replied.

“Sounds good,” Desmond said. “Gonna be interesting, at the very least.”

Seda made a humming noise of agreement. Ami nestled deeper, feeling nice and cozy with these people around her. Desmond ran a hand through her hair almost automatically, and she leaned into the touch. She reached out and tangled a free hand with- ah, there was rings, so Ziv’s hand. She felt Tristan press a leg along her back, and Seda shift to throw her legs across Desmond and Ami’s own.

Ami wondered how many of Desmond’s other selves were there with them. Sometimes they napped with them, but mostly they didn’t. Desmond had said that mandatory nap time was for  _ them _ mostly. The other seven were always welcome, of course, but they knew better…

With a sigh, Ami closed her eyes and fell asleep. Oh, but mandatory nap time was honestly the best idea ever…

0o0o0

  
  



	22. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we have another snippet chapter as i start thinking about how desmond's conversation with lucy, rebecca, and shaun will go lol
> 
> elise, rauf, and malik are all sword bros, jun and petruccio are both sweethearts, aveline has had a hard decade tracking down her stepmother, evie decides not to let her father put a wedge between her and jacob, and desmond manages to find ami
> 
> my intent is to make desmond not the absolute Best at everything, but pretty good, so he's completely unaware that he's as amazing as he is. what do you mean he's cool, he learned this from someone better than him... oh, sweetheart, you are badass, i promise...

Rauf watched in amusement as Altair and Malik sparred. Altair was good, of course, one of their best swordsmen. But Malik, simply, was better. Much like Umar and Maud gave Altair his name as a promise, Faheem did the same with his sons.

Though in Malik’s case, it was less a promise and more of a  _ refusal _ to be less than his absolute best regarding his chosen specialty. Rauf appreciated training an Assassin like Malik.

So, Altair put up a very, very good fight. On his best days, he even drew Malik to a draw, their spars leaving both Assassins with bruises and cuts. Rauf did not spar so brutally, though he had enough pride to imagine he had a few more years left in him before either Altair or Malik surpassed his skill. Less, if Malik decided to focus more on Rauf’s dual-bladed sword style.

That made the subtle switch between Altair and Elise that much more apparent. Because Elise was shaping up to be better than them all. She was not an Assassin, and so almost the entirety of her focus in a skill was on the sword. Where Altair and Malik had to spread their attention on their other skills to keep themselves sharp, Elise spent nearly all of it on the sword. Oh, she had some other skills that she had to upkeep, but there was decidedly less than Master Assassins kept track of.

Regardless of the reason, though, Elise was the best swordsman of Altair and his other selves.

“Ah, so a  _ proper _ challenger appears!” Malik said, grinning broadly, a scrape on the corner of his mouth where Altair had managed to shove him.

Elise shifted into a different stance, grinning in return. The watching novices and journeymen shifted excitedly as they recognized the shift in personality. They had no idea about Altair’s other selves, but they had picked up on when Altair, as they put it, stopped  _ playing around _ . Mostly because Elise made Altair smile like a man out for blood.

Which she was. Kind of.

“Not much of a challenge on my end, though, is it?” Elise returned easily.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Malik asked.

“That’s how it is,” Elise replied.

And with that, the pair of them charged at each other. Rauf watched, still amused, but also with a critical eye. These two were masters of their craft at this point in time, but it wouldn’t do to be lax in upkeep. Besides, he could and often used them as an example to follow and learn from for the novices and journeymen.

Though true fights rarely lasted that long, sparring could take several minutes. Neither of them wanted to truly harm the other, no matter that they also trusted each other to either dodge or take the hits. It was a good way to strengthen their endurance. Though with their rise in rank, their free time lessened, Altair and Malik did their best to spar at least once every few days.

Eventually, Malik stood victorious over Elise, the tip of his sword pressed against her sternum.

If this were a proper fight, Rauf could see Elise using any of the numerous openings that left Malik open. But they set rules for sparring, if only to spare themselves the injuries. It was a close one, but it seemed that Malik won this particular bout.

“I win,” Malik said smugly, before stepping back and reaching a hand out to help Elise up.

“Yeah yeah, you got  _ lucky _ ,” Elise said.

“Ha-  _ luck _ ,” Malik snorted, “As if.”

Elise wiped at her brow. “I’m winning the next one.”

“I look forward to it,” Malik agreed.

Elise blinked, and then Altair sheathed his sword. Rauf hummed in thought, wondering when he had started being able to tell the difference between them automatically. It wasn’t like there was any  _ change _ in body language, like this. The switch was fluid. But the energy was... Rauf supposed it was like being aware of their  _ spirits _ . What else could it be?

“Mm. That went well,” Altair said. He turned to the side, head tilted as he listened to something someone else was saying. “Ah, that’s fine.”

“Altair?” Malik asked.

“I have something I need to do with Ratonhnhaké:ton,” Altair said, voice quiet so only the two of them could hear. “Elise offered to remain here.”

“That’s fine,” Rauf assured. “You don’t have anything that needs  _ you _ in particular today, do you?”

“No,” Altair agreed. “See you later, then.”

“See you,” Malik echoed.

Though the phrase itself made sense, it was one of those odd turns of phrase that Altair picked up from one of his other selves. And like everything else, he didn’t notice when those around him started using it as well.

Altair nodded to Malik and Rauf, and then Elise stepped into place. She stretched her arms over her head and- smiled at the two of them. Not with her mouth, as she tended to do, but with her eyes in the manner Altair did.

Rauf and Mailk were both  _ aware _ of the differences, but Rauf had the feeling that if they wanted, Altair and any of his other selves could spend time as each other with  _ no one _ being the wiser.

“Hm,” Elise said, and tilted her head in an eerily familiar manner. “So, what  _ are _ we doing today?”

Malik hummed in thought. He would know, compared to Rauf. “We all had separate plans, but- if you’re here, the novices are working on their reading and writing, today.”

“You’d like me to help?” Elise asked.

“It’s up to you,” Malik said, “But it shouldn’t be out of character.”

“No, I know Altair has taught the novices a few times before,” Elise said. She looked at Malik. “Is this different than just teaching the children to read and write?”

“Yes,” Rauf said, stepping closer so that he didn’t have to speak so loud. “There’s no point in spying if you can’t read and write any common language used in the Holy Land, is there?”

Elise smirked. “No, not really. Okay, so teaching the novices. That I can do. I suppose it’d be a good start on learning how to teach my own novices.”

Malik made a face. Rauf understood.

It had taken several years, but Altair had finally introduced Elise as she was: the future Templar Grandmaster of the Parisian Rite. At this point, seven of the eight were all Assassins, though only three of them had been born into the Order. Rauf thought it said something about Elise that she remained a Templar.

It might also say something about the other seven, considering they all shared a self.

Elise rolled her eyes at them. “And you call  _ us _ stubborn, honestly.”

“It’s not that,” Rauf said, “We trust you. After training and learning together for the past few years, it’s hard not to.”

“Just keeping up appearances, then?” Elise asked amusedly.

“Yes,” Malik said flatly, rolling his own eyes. “You’re irritating.”

“Mm.” Elise made an agreeing noise. “You always say that though. And you happen to like  _ me _ the best.”

“Evie and Ratonhnhaké:ton happen to be my kind of sensible,” Malik said. He paused. “Well, when Evie chooses not to be obstinate, at least.”

“Yeah, we all know you just like me for my sword skills,” Elise teased. She looked to the fortress. “Lessons?”

“We should be getting to that,” Malik agreed. “Though cleaning up wouldn’t be amiss, either.”

Elise looked down at herself. At Altair’s body. “It would be a good idea, yes.”

Kadar came up to them, likely having completed his own chores. “Oh, I missed it!” he said.

“Didn’t miss much, really,” Elise said, shrugging.

Kadar blinked, and then studied her. “...Elise?” he guessed.

“Hello,” Elise greeted, smiling warmly at him.

“Hello!” Kadar greeted in return, reaching out to clasp her arm. It was as close to a hug he would be getting where others might see. “How have you been? Why are you here? Oh, wait, I know- Malik and Altair were sparring.”

“Yes,” Elise agreed, “Altair was losing so I decided to help.”

“You didn’t just let him lose?” Kadar asked curiously.

“I could’ve, but I’ve been bored recently,” Elise said.

“Oh,” Kadar said, “That makes sense. And what’re you still here for?”

“Altair is busy helping Ratonhnhaké:ton,” Elise explained, “So I’m here until they’re done. I’m actually going to go and help the novices.”

Kadar lit up. “Oh, can I help?”

“Sure, no reason for you not to,” Elise said shrugging. She turned to Malik. “Is there?”

“No,” Malik shook his head. He turned to Kadar. “And you could always use a refresher.”

“Ah, but I’d like to clean up a little, before,” Elise said, “Malik?”

Malik rolled his eyes. Not that he fooled anyone. After Altair, Malik liked Elise the best. Nothing created bonds like crossing swords with someone. “Come on, then.”

0o0o0

Jun appeared and settled across from Ezio, who was working at a low table. It wasn’t something that the Auditore would normally have kept, but Ezio found use for it, familiar with the height from both Jun and Desmond.

Petruccio was there as well, sitting quietly and working on his own letters.

“Afternoon, Jun,” Ezio greeted, not looking up.

Petruccio lifted his head and turned golden eyes in her direction. He frowned in concentration, his gaze landing somewhere slightly to the left of her. Still, he knew that Jun was there, and he smiled. “Hello, Jun.”

“Hello,” Jun repeated, which Ezio echoed for her. She turned her attention back to Ezio. “I’m sorry if you are busy, but I did have something I wanted to ask.”

“I’m never too busy for you,” Ezio said. “What did you need?”

“It’s not so drastic, otherwise you’d have felt it,” Jun said, “But I wanted to learn Italian.”

Ezio blinked. “Oh! Yes, of course. I’m guessing actually learn it, not sharing?”

“Yes,” Jun agreed, “And probably reading and writing it, more than speaking right now.”

“Ezio?” Petruccio asked curiously, looking between Ezio and Jun. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing bad, I promise,” Ezio said, “But Jun wants to learn Italian.”

“Oh, cool,” Petruccio said. “Can I help?”

Jun nodded. She liked Petruccio. He was smart and willing to learn new things, including her own language. They hadn’t worked incredibly hard at it, busy with their own lives, but Petruccio was at least able to say some basic phrases.

“She says yes,” Ezio told him, then turned to her. “Hm. I’m not incredibly busy at the moment, though sometimes random things come up. And I’m sure Mother would love having me inside for once.”

“She would,” Jun said wryly, aware of how much Maria despaired over her children’s antics.

Though Maria rarely did anything to  _ stop _ them, unless they did something bad. Even for noble children, the Auditore siblings had a rather large amount of free range. Since Jun had seen Maria hiding amused smiles, most of it had to be for appearances sake.

“Okay, do you want to start now?” Ezio asked.

Jun blinked. “Sure, why not?”

Ezio smiled warmly at her. “Well, let’s start with trying to separate the languages, like how Desmond and Altair figured it out. Not enough that you can’t understand, but enough that we can work on the alphabet…”

0o0o0

Aveline stared down at the corpses around her, mind blank. It wasn’t the steady and conscious emptiness that came from killing people, though she was very familiar with that sensation after so many years. No, it was the blankness of shock, perhaps.

“We’re not having good luck with mentor figures this year, are we?” Altair asked, and wrapped her in a hug, his thoughts turning dark at the indirect mention of Al Mualim. They would be dealing with that nuisance later, but right now the focus was on Aveline.

She sighed heavily and leaned into his hug, and felt the others lending their strength as well. Not a second later she felt as they pulled each other in a group hug, the contact keeping her steady. The shock slowly bled away, though Aveline was aware that this was only a stop gap. She’d have to deal with the emotions, later, when she was in a safe place to process them.

Besides, Madeleine was no mentor figure. At least nothing outside of Aveline’s civilian life, and even then she had poisoned Aveline’s father. But Madeleine had been good to her, even if with ulterior motives in the long run, and-

“It’s okay to be confused, and angry, and hurt,” Desmond said, face pressed into her hair. “But right now we have to deal with the situation at hand.”

“I know,” Aveline said wearily, and turned to the Disc sitting on the table ahead of her.

Even without touching it, she could tell that the full Disc would respond to her where it did not respond to Madeline. Aveline walked up to it, and pressed her hand over the center.

It was like- static electricity, of sorts. She used her second sight, and saw that her own aura interact with the inanimate aura of the Disc, as if it were a lock. Completely unlike when Madeleine attempted it, where the Disc utterly refused to interact with her presence.

“I wonder what it means, that those with our second sight have the ability to interact with Pieces of Eden?” Evie asked curiously, thoughts turning to the Shroud and how it shimmered under her hands. It worked for Starrick, that much was obvious during their fight, but it didn’t  _ interact _ with him. Not like it did for Evie and Jacob.

“Something to think about in the future,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

Their conversation was cut off when light began to emit from the Disc. Aveline stepped back, because the…  _ hologram _ that appeared, was taller than expected.

“It’s a recorded video, but in hologram,” Desmond said, watching in slight awe. Then they actually started paying attention to what was being said.

“Oh my God,” Aveline breathed, staring. “Is that-”

“It  _ can’t _ be, can it?” Elise said, staring distantly to the side.

“They are called Pieces of  _ Eden _ -”

“Well, fuck,” Desmond said, which summed up the entire situation neatly.

“So. We knew this, from our own research, but it turns out that Adam and Eve were the first free humans which is why we remember them even to Desmond’s time,” Evie said calmly. Probably too calmly. And likely a precursor to a rather energetic response.

Eh, whatever, Assassins. They rolled with the punches and life shattering revelations.

“And they rebelled, and name Eve their leader,” Altair said. He turned to Evie. “You were named after a revolutionary. How does that make you feel?”

Evie blinked, and thought about it. She smiled slowly, viciously. “Quite wonderful, actually.”

“Aveline?” a voice-  _ Gerard _ , called, from behind her. Aveline turned and watched him walk calmly through the bodies on the floor. He carefully didn’t look at them beyond making sure he didn’t walk on them, but there was no disgust, either. Still, he frowned when he noticed Madeleine as he approached. “Are you well?”

“...I will be,” Aveline said. “We are going to need to deal with the bodies.”

Gerard frowned at her. “No, you must go and rest, and we will discuss what happened later, when you look less like death. I and our allies will clean up here.”

“Are you certain?” Aveline asked.

She wanted to take the out and run and find a place to cuddle with her other selves, but she wouldn’t leave Gerard alone, either. They had known some of these people. They worked with them, merchants and otherwise. Aveline may have been the one to kill them all, but she was by no means the only one here who would have to deal with the aftermath.

“Yes,” Gerard said, his gaze firm. “Go find a place to rest for at least a day. It has been a long few weeks for you.”

“...yes, it has,” Aveline agreed, feeling the edge of exhaustion looming. “Thank you, Gerard.”

“You’re welcome,” Gerard said, eyes soft. “Now go, my dear. I will handle everything here.”

Aveline nodded to him, and picked up the Disc. It didn’t do a repeat of its video, but then she didn’t have the intent to watch it again. It might be the age that had it only show the one memory, but it felt like there could be more recordings.

Something to play around with, later.

“I’ll see you, Gerard,” Aveline said, and left the building.

0o0o0

Evie crouched, and walked as quietly as possible along the floor. Her steps were sure, and she had already memorized how the floor moved; there were spots that made noise  _ here _ , and  _ here _ , deliberately left so that guests and intruders both made noise. The members of this household made noise when walking, but only by increasing the force of their footsteps, not by stepping onto creaky floorboards.

Oh, but she hated having to sneak through her own house. At least outside of training. But her father had been in a bad mood recently, and Jacob was louder than her. Just by being himself he drew attention, and ire, even when he didn’t mean to. It wasn’t his fault, but it made him feel badly, and Evie could not  _ allow _ that. Not even from her father.

Actually,  _ especially _ not from her father.

But Evie was still learning how to fight, and she couldn’t make her father see reason like that. Especially not as he taught her their history and all the knowledge Jacob hated sitting still for. Their father liked her better, that much was obvious, but Evie felt that was unfair. At least the other Assassins treated them impartially, though they liked her wit better.

Fools, the lot of them. Jacob was just as intelligent as she was. But this constant looking down on him, mild as it was comparatively, was wearing at him. Soon he’d start thinking they were right to think negatively of him, instead of Jacob exaggerating his negative traits for others.

That, Evie absolutely refused.

So, as Jacob went out and about and learned all the hidden and dark places of their small town and the nearest city, Evie did her best spying. Jun helped a lot here, with her circles her second sight gave her, and as a spy herself.

Everyone knew maids and servant girls were too dumb to be of any trouble.

Once again, fools, the lot of them. Did no one really realize that most assassins- not Assassins- were women? That all tools that assassins used were generally accepted as a woman’s work, to those that knew it?

Well, either way, their ignorance helped Evie out here. She crept forward, quietly, and her heartbeat steady. Her targets weren’t just civilians, but Assassins.  _ Master _ Assassins. They likely thought that Evie was out with Jacob, and they did their best to make them think that. All the better for her to sneak around.

Evie and Jacob were inseparable, yes, but they definitely played that up. It was odd being apart, but it wasn’t like they were attached at the hip. Honestly, what was it about twins that made people think they were connected beyond regular siblings?

Other than the fact that Evie and Jacob were like that. But that was something they felt was an Assassin thing, not a twin thing. There were a couple of sets of twins in their small town, and they certainly didn’t have the connection that Evie and Jacob did.

Altair and Desmond crept alongside her, more twin-like than even Evie and Jacob. They were identical in appearance after all, and Evie and Jacob had started growing out of  _ that _ when they entered puberty. Though they were still the same height and could still pass as one another.

“I don’t like this,” Altair muttered, keeping his eyes sharp. “They are Assassins. If this were  _ training _ , it’d be one thing. But we are actually spying.”

“Too bad,” Desmond replied quietly. He stepped even more silently than even Jun or Evie did. Because Jun, and Evie, and the others all had places they could  _ choose _ to be loud. Desmond didn’t have that on the Farm. He had to be quiet  _ all _ the time, because he would get in trouble otherwise. Which was another completely unfair thing, but Evie was busy with  _ this _ unfair thing at the moment. She could get angry later. “We know that adults can be weird, sometimes.”

“Nearly all of the time, actually,” Altair corrected, snorting. But he didn’t add anything else. They were only a few years out from being considered adults on their own, after all. And they all knew that they’d be pretty odd. Hopefully a good odd.

Evie didn’t bother trying to quiet them. Only she could see and hear them, after all. There really was nothing stopping them from just walking and talking normally. But they had long since decided that they’d interact with the world like they were actually there. It saved them the headache, and made it easier to work with each other.

Well, unless they were teasing each other, but they knew when and when not to do that as well.

“They are below,” Altair murmured, leaning closer to her.

Evie concentrated and… yes, there they were, painted figures that glowed vibrantly below her. She and Jacob could see through walls, but she had to work at it. Altair helped, since he could see where smoke came from, and could direct her attention at it.

“Right,” Evie breathed shallowly, and stilled her heartbeat even further.

She went slowly, steps sure and careful, and worked her way to the small alcove. It would hide her some more, and she could press her ear to the floor to listen in. None of their second sight had developed enough to enhance their hearing yet, though Altair and Ratonhnhaké:ton were the closest. Or, rather, they were unable to share what skill they had in that area just yet.

_ Try _ and keep secrets from Evie and Jacob, why don’t you. These weren’t even the really important secrets that the twins knew not to touch. They were just secrets their father kept because he felt like it, or felt like they couldn’t handle it.

Stupid. Evie and Jacob could decide what they were ready for.

“Calmly, Evie,” Desmond whispered to her, eyes dark.

“Right,” Evie agreed, and settled down. She strained her hearing, and started picking up the talking below.

Jacob needed this. Evie needed this. Best to keep quiet.

0o0o0

Desmond hummed absentmindedly as he watched the streets.

He was on top of an apartment complex, wearing a white hoodie that he had found recently. It had red strings and red trim along the wrists and bottom elastic, and it was wonderful. The hood was rounded instead of beaked, but it did its purpose. A proper Assassin hoodie, even if he did have to go out of his way to find it.

“What are you looking for?” Altair asked, crouched next to him, his own hood covering his eyes. He watched carefully and curiously with golden eyes. Desmond was as much of a bird as he was, but Altair always seemed to embody it more often.

Though that was likely just a Masyaf thing. Desmond had seen Malik and Kadar do the same thing, after all.

“A computer hacker,” Desmond told him, “Or a forger at least. Someone that can get me papers for my shiny new false identity.”

“Miles Guerrero,” Altair repeated, humming thoughtfully. He was familiar with forging covers, if not on the scale required for this time. “I assume you want a trustworthy one?”

Desmond didn’t bother responding that rhetorical question. He stood, and moved along the edge of the rooftop. No one would be paying attention to him up here. Those that did would simply ignore and forget him. “I’m close, I’ve been looking all day and my Eagle Vision is telling me the one I’m looking for is  _ here _ . But not more than that.”

“That’s why I’m here, then,” Altair said, following him.

“Probably,” Desmond agreed. Altair had the strongest second sight of them all, and the most nuanced. Especially in regards to searching for things they weren’t  _ quite _ aware of.

“Then let’s look closer,” Altair said, and turned golden eyes on the streets below.

Desmond leaned into his shoulder, the position slightly awkward, but not uncomfortable. He lent his strength and his own eyes, as Altair looked around. Desmond saw the gentle glow of his own second sight waver lightly as the faint smoke that Altair saw bled into his vision. They had done this enough times that the faint headache that they had all previously gotten from doing this did not come.

“There,” Altair said, motioning, staring blankly.

Desmond followed his line of sight, and sighed in relief when he registered the golden glow of  _ importance _ . He and Altair both stood up again, and walked along the roof, casing out the person before Desmond climbed down. This was New York, so while people were tolerant of oddities, they weren’t tolerant of random people entering their personal bubble with no good reason.

They wore a sweater and a long skirt, and had hair cropped to their chin. It was dark, and at this distance, looked vaguely blue- dyed, probably. They had rather large glasses that reflected the light, and carried a bookbag. They walked plainly, and sort of hunched in on themself. Almost everything about them screamed  _ don’t look at me _ .

“Oh,” Desmond said as he recognized the body expression, even at this distance.

Desmond shifted his thinking  _ sideways _ , looking at how their glow interacted with the world instead of their physical presence. He was by no means able to see people’s thoughts like Altair could when he focused, but Desmond was able to see  _ how _ they thought.

And this person had very bright, very chaotic, thoughts indeed. It was how Evie, or Malik, or Ned, looked when they were in one of their thinky moods. It was like their thoughts were too large to be contained, and spread out past them.

This person was very much who he was looking for. Desmond hummed, wondering how to approach. His new found computer hacker and/or forger looked like a stiff wind would blow them over. They had a strong strength of will behind all that meekness, because their second sight wouldn’t push them towards someone that couldn’t keep up with them, but it seemed almost turned in on itself.

“Not a happy person, are they?” Altair asked, watching them curiously.

“By circumstance instead of nature, I think,” Desmond said. “Best go say hello, right?”

0o0o0

  
  



	23. I May Fall 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's part 11 of desmond's story!
> 
> it's a conversation that needed to happen, i feel, even in canon... though i did have trouble with making it toe the line between 'this character would straight up say no to all of this' and 'this needs to happen to move the plot forward' lol. hopefully it worked out well
> 
> altair is his own thing, and desmond (and the others) will be feeling the after effects of that soon enough. as well as diving into ezio's memories, but without like actually living through it all. gotta get to the meaty stuff. it'll be fun guys, don't worry lol

Desmond carefully did not fidget as he sat in a loose circle with Lucy, Rebecca, and Hastings. He was nervous, of course, but he hadn’t gotten to where he was by showing it. He had long since learned how to hide his nerves. That didn’t mean that his other selves didn’t have the full view of how close he was to panicking.

“Calm down,” Elise said, watching them all. Despite the situation, she looked at Desmond amusedly. “They aren’t unreasonable people.”

“They just had some expectations we need to clarify,” Evie agreed. “Though it might not endear you to them, it’s best we’re all on the same page.”

They lent Desmond their strength, even if they still felt the edge of exhaustion. One night’s sleep wasn’t enough to recover properly from all that had happened. But still, Desmond leaned into that shared strength, buoying up above the nerves. Even Altair, busy as he was, shared his strength, just as Desmond hadn’t stopped sharing his with him.

“We aren’t that scary, are we?” Rebecca asked amusedly, watching him with bright eyes.

He was watching for it, so Desmond  _ saw _ her looking at them all. It was the way that those trained in intelligence looked at people. He wondered what she saw, and decided that talking with her would be one of his top priorities while he was here.

“Depends, I guess,” Desmond said dubiously.

No wonder they were a cell. Man, he’d never been so glad for the training Isra gave them. These were the so-called  _ soft _ Assassins, whose skills lied not in the physical but in the mental. Probably why they were assigned to him, if his parents saw the very minimal trail he had purposefully left behind.

And even if Desmond was overestimating them, that was better than the alternative. He’d rather not be taken off guard.

“Calm down,” Elise repeated, “They’re not enemies. They’ll notice if you’re tense instead of just apprehensive.”

Desmond took a breath, and rubbed at his arm. “Sorry. It’s just- I’ve been avoiding Assassins and Templars for almost a decade. I’m not happy to be brought back into it.” At least not like this. He had plans for dealing with Abstergo. His plans for dealing with Assassins were still bare bones, and it left him off kilter. Especially knowing that his parents had some involvement.

“How’d you get caught, anyways?” Rebecca asked curiously. He eyed her and- yes, that was honest curiosity.

“I got a motorcycle license,” Desmond said glumly.

And it was _worth_ _it_ , he’d hold onto that forever. Ziv would have taken his motorcycle to keep it safe, and he trusted him with it. Which was why he felt confident enough to go to the DMV in the first place.

“Fingerprints and a picture,” Lucy said, snapping her fingers. “Makes sense.”

“You expected you might get caught, and did it anyway?” Hastings asked suspiciously.

Desmond looked to him. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Frankly, he and his other selves could be considered adrenaline junkies. Even Elise, as much as she exaggeratedly despaired at being connected to  _ Assassins _ like she was. They were all a bit screwed up, especially considering that a good fight calmed them down. And a motorcycle was one of the best feelings. As close to flying as Desmond could get without going skydiving.

Though it was also frankly somewhat terrifying that Abstergo did have fingers in every single corporate and industry meat pie there was. Not surprising, not after so many years looking for it, but still terrifying.

Lucy hummed in thought, and they turned to her. She looked serious and contemplative, and Desmond sighed mentally. Looks like they were getting down to business, then. Best to get this conversation out of the way.

“Best take the lead,” Evie said, “It’s three against what they think is only one.”

“Well, this is awkward,” Desmond muttered, and leaned into Elise, who sat next to him and would provide some support if needed. The best lies were absolute truths, after all, and Elise had some rather separate truths compared to Desmond. “So, Lucy told me last night when we arrived that you didn’t rescue me out of the goodness of your hearts.”

Which Desmond  _ understood _ . The Order of Assassins was weak at the moment, especially in comparison to Abstergo. It’d be suicide to mount an actual attack on the building, even for the child of their Mentor, which was why he had immediately dismissed what Vidic and Lucy had let him hear.

If people even  _ knew  _ of his existence at all, anyways; the previous Mentor had been a near mythical figure, who very few had even  _ met _ . Desmond had no reason to believe that it’d change for his father.

“Well, not  _ only _ ,” Rebecca protested mildly. Hastings snorted, and crossed his arms irritably.

Desmond rolled his eyes. He liked Rebecca. It might be her job, but she kept the tension relatively low. “Not denying that you’re planning on using me for something.  _ What _ , I don’t actually know.”

It had to do with him learning how to fight and be an Assassin. Or there was information that they believed would help in the long run, hiding in Desmond’s genetics. Who knew, but it couldn’t be  _ good _ , exactly, if they were trusting the Bleeding Effect to work like they wanted it to.

Honestly, after seeing what Sixteen left, Desmond wasn’t willing to do any of that on sheer principle. He might have some safety nets in the form of seven other selves, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t affected. Sleep helped, but Desmond still had trouble with speaking the right language. And that was with only a week; he  _ really _ didn’t want to know how he’d be in however long they planned on having him in the Animus.

“It has to be information,” Elise said, “Physical skills are one thing- there are probably Assassins here that are plenty strong fighters. But with all that we have planned, and already knowing that you are descended from Altair and Ezio…” she trailed off, then looked to them meaningfully.

“And the likelihood of you being descended from the rest of us,” Evie added. She raised an eyebrow at him. “One is chance, two is coincidence, as they say. We don’t know either way yet, but we can’t say that you  _ aren’t _ .”

“Like I said, we need your help,” Lucy said, “The Assassins are losing this war. We do what we can, but more and more of us are dying.”

Desmond eyed her. “Why do you need my help, though? I’m just one guy.” That had access to seven other people with incredible skills of their own, but these people really didn’t need to know that.

“Yes, yes you are,” Hastings said.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “But you have the genetics that lead to some of the greatest Assassins we have records on. With the Animus, that amounts to having access to the skills and knowledge of them all.”

“It’s proven that you can live through months in a much shorter amount of time,” Hastings said, “With you living through a summer within a week.”

“So even though you’ve been out of practice for nearly a decade, we can bring you up to speed in a much shorter amount of time,” Lucy said.

“That explains why you chose me,” Desmond said, feeling a bit queasy at the idea of just living other people’s lives. Altair was bad enough, and he  _ knew _ him. “But none of that explained why you  _ need _ me. I am still only one person.”

“Genetics,” Rebecca said, “There’s more to it than just physical traits and stuff. You inherit more. And since you’re descended from a lot of incredibly important Assassins, as was explained by your parents, you’re sort of the genetic jackpot. Like, I don’t think I can properly express how much of one.”

Elise clicked her tongue. “True. It’s something that I’ve noticed as a trend as I looked into who the Templars of my time  _ know _ are Assassins. Those who are descended from Assassins tend to become Assassins themselves, even if it they didn’t know they were in the first place. And if not part of the Order itself, then following the tenants and similar ideals of it anyways.”

“I might be an anomaly, but the concubines did not keep track of their relations but to make sure that we did not have children with our siblings and other close relations,” Jun pointed out, “It may be a possibility that I have an ancestor that was an Assassin.”

“And we do know that those with Eagle Vision tend to the Assassins as well,” Ezio said.

“So… you need me because I’m some kind of potential super Assassin?” Desmond asked incredulously. “You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?”

Evie giggled quietly. “I’m imagining you wearing a bright red superhero cape. Like Superman.”

“With the Assassin insignia printed both on your chest and on the cape,” Aveline added.

That set off the others into soft laughter of their own, and Desmond valiantly refrained. It took effort though, and he mentally shoved at Evie for it. He was trying to have a serious conversation here, thank you!

Lucy winced at the description, but nodded. “You have potential that likely no one else has whatsoever. If we get you trained up, what you can do would outstrip literally anyone and anything we have right now.”

Desmond stared. “...Wow,” he said flatly.

Because literally,  _ what the fuck _ . Not about his skill or potential skill. Desmond had been training for his entire life, and he knew what he could and could not do. He regularly worked with six other brilliant Assassins as well, as well as one of the best Templars in the business. But the fact that for some reason, they had decided that if they had Desmond, they could somehow win this eternal war?

“You’re the Chosen One, Desmond,” Elise said flatly.

“...Superhero,” Aveline whispered, and set them off on another round of laughter. Desmond despaired of them, he really did. But he really couldn’t blame them for it. He’d be laughing too if it weren’t about his life.

“Yeah, I know, it’s really stupid when you say it like that,” Rebecca agreed cheerfully. “Not going to lie, part of the reason I decided to volunteer was because it sounded like fun. Always wanted to be part of a real life superhero team.”

Desmond snorted. Rebecca was good, but she honestly cared about cheering them up. It was remarkably like being with his captains, actually. “Not much of a superhero team if your hero wants nothing to do with the Animus.”

“I don’t know, the reluctant hero is a classic trope,” Rebecca pointed out, “Not going to force you into anything, that way lies Templar ideology, but you have to admit. Still hitting those tropes point for point.”

“Will you two come back to the point? We are rather trying to discuss saving people’s lives, here,” Hastings said irritably.

“Mine not included?” Desmond asked easily. Hastings made a face, but relented. “Not really helping your case here. Do any of you even know what the Animus  _ does _ to a person?”

Lucy’s lips thinned, and she shifted guiltily. “The Bleeding Effect.”

“Yeah, you also said something about using that to our advantage to teach me skills,” Desmond said. He didn’t cross his arms; other than Lucy, he wasn’t even certain that Rebecca or Hastings even  _ knew _ that was an Assassin gesture meaning ‘no threat’. “You weren’t going to bring up the fact that I’d slowly go insane? I’m still recovering from working through Altair’s memories, and you want me to do  _ more _ ?”

“I did start making contingency plans, as well as smoothing out a lot of the issues that the Animus you were in had,” Rebecca said, eyes serious. “We can’t get rid of the Bleeding Effect in its entirety, the process is too involved in the memories itself. But there are definitely ways to mitigate the process.”

“Would it be worth it, though?” Desmond asked. “I still have trouble remembering to speak English, and the memories I lived through are much clearer than some of my own. Even factoring in the natural degradation of memories over time, that’s not good.”

Lucy and Hastings both watched him with wide, surprised eyes, having done so since he started listing off problems. He stared at them, confused, even as he waited for Rebecca’s answer. These were pretty obvious problems, did they  _ really _ not think it through? No, it had to be something else, these people were too smart to not have figured it out.

Unless it was one of those things where the answer was so obvious they ignored it.

Was Rebecca the only one here with common sense? Hopefully not. Desmond would have to bring them into his fold just to make sure they didn’t kill themselves in the long run. And since that would include revealing his secrets, and he’d really rather not. Not without spending some more time with them to get a better picture of their allegiances.

He refused to risk his people on those that might be loyal enough to his parents or others.

Rebecca hummed in thought, and tapped out a beat on her thigh. She took the question seriously, and was coming up with an answer that didn’t boil down to just ‘trust me’. It made Desmond like her that much more.

“Just as stated, likely not,” Rebecca admitted, “But we are continuously upgrading the Animus to be smoother and cause less of a problem. There’s also the idea that you learn what you  _ need _ to learn and no more. Instead of forcing you to relive the memories to reach something we want, we just send you in to where the important memory is.”

“And if it’s locked?” Desmond asked. “That’s why I had to live through Altair’s memories at all.” Which was still confusing, unless the Apple did something. Which was likely, and still terrifying to think about.

Rebecca sighed. “Then we move on, and find a memory that works. Like I said, you’re a genetic jackpot. Even if the ideal memory isn’t available, there’s so many different possibilities that there should be no reason to do what happened with Altair.”

Desmond leaned back, thinking about it. That was a good compromise, for all that he still didn’t want to. “Then,” he said slowly, “What do you want me to do?”

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked, having recovered enough to return to the conversation.

“I got why you chose me,” Desmond said, looking to her, “But that doesn’t translate well to how you’re going to use me. You’re looking to train me to become a sharp weapon, aimed at your enemies. Sure, I understand, whatever. But what do you  _ want _ me to do? How am I going to be useful? What can I do, trained well, do that you or anyone else can’t do? What potential skills are you looking for that would be helpful? Which information?”

Hastings still looked shocked. For what reason, Desmond had no idea. Rebecca at least, seemed amused, even as she reached out and poked him in the shoulder. Hastings quickly regained his composure, but Desmond could still  _ see _ the surprise.

“They likely thought you stupid,” Elise said, snorting. “After all, you’re just a bartender who got caught getting a license.”

“...does no one know what skills a bartender even  _ needs _ , even at the shitty bars?” Desmond asked his other selves privately, deciding not to make a point of even hiding for nearly a decade at  _ all _ . “Like, even disregarding literally  _ everything _ else that I’ve been doing.”

“It’s a customer service position where you interact with people to make money,” Evie said, “Of course they don’t.”

The others all spent time training at the bar with Desmond, and were quite aware of what he had to  _ know _ to get to the position he did. Even if part of the reason they hired him was for his looks, to be considered and  _ kept _ in the position, he had to learn the trade. Learning how to flair bartend was actually the easiest part of the job, followed by memorizing the drinks themselves. It was actually everything that they learned with Isra that kept him afloat in those early days as he settled into his new profession.

“Assassins. You’d think they know better,” Elise muttered.

“Come now,” Ezio said, nudging her in the shoulder, “We know that the Order is not what it once was and what it could be. It’s why Desmond left.”

Lucy bit her lip, thinking hard. Rebecca rolled her eyes and took the lead again. “We honestly have no idea,” she admitted, “What our job is is to get you trained. We don’t know what skills you can learn, or what you’ll be good at, or even a potential specialty. As we figure that out, then what we want you to do will be decided on.”

“And probably not by you,” Desmond said, and rubbed at his arm. He had a very good idea who would be making  _ that _ decision. “By-”

“By your father, yes,” Lucy said. “He  _ is  _ the current Mentor.”

“And I’m his only child,” Desmond said, sighing.

It had been a thing, he remembered, though one they tried not to tell him about. And it was one of the few things they did as his  _ parents _ instead of as his trainers. His mother had a difficult pregnancy with him and hadn’t been able to get pregnant again. He had kept an ear out for any information otherwise, but nothing. It was a shame. He’d have liked to be an older brother.

“Please tell me that either of my parents are coming here,” Desmond asked plainly. “Sure, I know you’re giving at least my dad reports about me. Whatever, it’s your job. But I really don’t want to meet them.”

“What, are you scared?” Hastings asked meanly, trying to get some control back in this particular situation. He still looked off kilter, so Desmond didn’t hold it against him. Much.

“Not really,” Desmond said, rolling his eyes, “Except that I  _ really _ don’t want to see them.”

For reasons that were, frankly, none of their business. His other selves knew, but part of Desmond wasn’t even sure if he’d have told  _ them _ if they literally weren’t there with him. Like hell he was bringing any of it up with these people.

The only other one that had any kind of idea whatsoever what his childhood was like was Nonna, and Desmond didn’t actually tell her anything.

Elise pressed firmly into his shoulder, aware of where his thoughts were going. Desmond took a deep breath and pulled his train of thought away from that direction.

“No, it’s fine,” Lucy said, “William has made no mention of visiting.”

Desmond sighed in relief, uncaring that the others saw. He  _ wasn’t _ scared of his parents, but there was that pit of nausea in his gut at the eventual meeting. Because he held no illusions that he would see them again, now that they knew where he was.

Desmond turned to the Animus, where the chair still sat in place of honor. It did look like an incredibly comfortable chair, for all the devices on it that told him its true purpose.

“What are you guys actually doing?” Desmond asked.

“Hm?” Rebecca asked curiously.

“Your actual jobs. I’m going to sit doing nothing in a chair, but what about you? What are you doing?” Desmond repeated.

This was either Hastings secondary job or he had a secondary job to this, if the bulletin board was any indication. Rebecca looked to be in charge of the actual Animus. And Lucy was the team leader, apparently.

Damn, but Desmond really needed to focus on her. Having their team leader be an enemy was… really not good. Like at all.

“Well, I’m in charge of contact with the outside world, and keeping both us and other teams informed of the situation,” Lucy said, “With some additional monitoring of the Animus itself.”

Desmond refrained from wincing; wow, and no one would question her about it, either.

“I’m in charge of Baby here,” Rebecca said, patting a trailing cable from the Animus. “We’re all pretty awesome with computers, but I’m the one dealing with the main programming regarding the Animus. Much of the upgrades you see are mine.”

“Nice chair,” Desmond said, because it was. He’d have to ask where she got it, because he’d like one without the Animus hooked up to it.

“Thank you,” Rebecca said, pleased.

“I’m the historian,” Hastings said, “In charge of all the information and data that you’d be seeing in the Animus. As a hacker and researcher, I’m also a team handler for several cells out in the field, sending them information required for their missions.”

“He’s also a bit of a conspiracy freak,” Rebecca added cheerfully, “The conspiracy board was definitely an aesthetic choice.”

“Shut up, Rebecca,” Hastings said automatically, frowning dramatically at her. Rebecca smiled in response with the ease of a well-worn interaction. Definitely partners.

Desmond hummed thoughtfully. That explained why he seemed the most rushed and incensed about potential delays. It also might explain the stress, though Desmond wasn’t certain if that was just a facet of Hasting’s  _ lovely  _ personality.

“Who would be in charge of evaluating me?” he asked. Because what was the point of teaching him anything if no one made certain he was being taught correctly?

“I would,” Lucy said.

Desmond made a face at her. She was a good fighter, but she could be great with some more effort. “And I guess my dad will be told,” he sighed.

Lucy winced. Probably at his tone, but also probably because Lucy knew his dad well enough. Especially since his dad was most likely the one to send her on her undercover mission in the first place. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s your job, no worries,” Desmond said, shrugging. He didn’t like it, but he understood. Elise nudged him again. “What’s the schedule looking like?” he asked.

“Schedule?” Lucy repeated.

“Yeah. When we were in Abstergo, I’d go literally all day,” Desmond said. He frowned at them, “That’s not happening here.”

Oh, God, was he actually thinking about doing this?

“It is a good source of information,” Elise pointed out, though she also sounded uneasy. None of them had come out of the Animus unscathed by the end. “And they definitely aren’t trying to run you into the ground for the sake of information like Vidic was.”

“It’s also likely that with Rebecca’s upgrades, we might not be as strained keeping even like before,” Evie said. “We may even be able to stop going in with you at all.”

“Taking where we are, what we want you to learn, and how we need to stay hidden,” Lucy trailed off, and bit her lip, thinking it over. “I’d say, we’d treat it like a regular 8-5 work day. Lunch and breaks included.”

Desmond hummed. That was… honestly better than he had expected. More than he wanted, definitely, but at least he wouldn’t be kept in only to be taken out for a singular mid-day meal. Best case ever would be not to go into the Animus at all, but…

“It’s not how we wanted to do this at all,” Ezio said, “But we can’t deny that this is an opening we’d be fools not to take.”

“Especially with you captains and allies aware of where you are and what you’d be doing,” Elise added.

“And the potential that Rebecca holds,” Evie added, watching said person. “Even when we first met her, she was someone we wanted to talk with.”

“But we also need to stay to help Lucy,” Elise said.

That they did. And it seemed that working with them, with the Animus, was the easiest way to stay there without arousing suspicion. He’d have to be careful, of course, but it should be easier. Desmond didn’t  _ trust _ these people, but they weren’t enemies. They had the potential to be friends, and allies. And he already liked Lucy and Rebecca.

“Even if we choose to leave, we want to send a message to the others before we do so, if only to leave the country safely,” Ezio said. “Best way to to that is to use the Hephaestus Network to send an email out.”

“Okay,” Desmond breathed out. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He really didn’t want to, but he was invested. Lucy, especially, who had the golden glow of mission importance even as he still saw her glow red. Rebecca, who looked to be a true ally, and a good friend. And even Hastings, who needed to learn how to apologize, but cared deeply enough to lose sleep over his teams.

Lucy smiled relievedly, and Rebecca beamed at him. Hastings let out a huff, but the line of his shoulders relaxed. Huh.

“If they are here, they are placing much of themselves on the line for this,” Elise pointed out.

“Thank you, Desmond,” Lucy said. “We’ll do our best by you.”

“I’ll set up the Animus- we can calibrate it easily, with you here and willing,” Rebecca said, and went to do just that.

Desmond took a breath. Well, then. He really was doing this. At least he had his other selves to help him keep an even keel.

0o0o0

  
  



	24. I May Fall 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go, part 12 of desmond's story!
> 
> things are happening. numerous different plotlines are sort of happening in the background, so it's... interesting to try and get them to move together without causing issues lol. because we're in desmond's POV and as set up by being part of a cluster, he /knows/ what's going on in the other POVs, he's just more focused on what's happening to him right now.
> 
> also, we're setting up the beginning for our modern assassins to be the group of four against the world they were always meant to be... also! i do like shaun, he's great. he's just not dealing with a desmond that's okay with letting the world walk over him. (or, rather, a desmond that's got people that refuse to let desmond act that way lol) (but that's a thing we'll get to later)
> 
> ps, thank you for all your comments! they keep me going strong

“Okay,” Rebecca started, fiddling with the monitor attached to the Animus. “Here we go. Baby is up and running and ready to go.”

“Baby?” Desmond repeated amusedly. “Do you mean the Animus?”

Rebecca grinned at him. “I prefer the Animus two point oh, thank you. Twice as good as anything you’d find in Abstergo.”

“Really?” Desmond asked, watching her. She  _ believed _ that, truly. Not that he had any reason to doubt her, but...

“Of course,” Rebecca said, “Abstergo may have deeper pockets, and Templars, but they’re getting too used to their power. They’ve got no ambition, no competitive edge. So even if they have all the money in the world to work on their Animus project, I can do, and am, literally better at it than they are on a small fraction of the budget.”

“Huh,” Desmond said, eyeing her and the machine with new eyes. That did explain why this Animus looked more inviting in general. And why what had taken a room’s worth of equipment only needed half of it here.

“I really do like her,” Ezio said, leaning over Rebecca as she worked. “Is it strange that she reminds me of Claudia?”

“Less violent and more socially rambunctious, but yeah, she does,” Elise agreed from where she stood by Lucy, keeping an eye on what she was doing.

“Utterly terrifying in the absolutely  _ best _ way, you mean,” Ezio said gleefully. “We haven’t had reason to see it, she’s more focused on keeping tensions down right now, but oh, she’d be amazing.”

“Hm. I would’ve said she was more like Petruccio,” Jun mused, “But Rebecca looks like she’d cheerfully steamroll right over anyone in her path, so.”

“So, Claudia,” Ezio agreed, nodding. “Though I don’t think Rebecca would be as happy running a city-state as my sister.”

“How did you get into computers, anyways?” Desmond asked curiously, ignoring the byplay.

Rebecca grinned at him. “I broke my leg and couldn’t do anything I normally would but work on computers. Turns out I’m good at it.” There was more to  _ that _ story, but their level of friendship was nowhere near high enough for that particular backstory. Tragic or not, really.

“Huh. Cool,” Desmond said.

He wondered what she did prior that held her attention so fully, but it had to be something thrilling. Anyone who cheerfully admitted to joining this kind of cell just because it’d be like working with a superhero team had to be  _ some _ sort of thrill seeker. All Assassins tended to be.

“Speaking of,” Desmond said carefully, eyeing Lucy and Hastings. They were doing their own thing. He wouldn’t delude himself into thinking that they weren’t keeping  _ some _ sort of attention on him, but they shouldn’t hear him from this distance. “I want to send a message out to some friends of mine back in New York.”

Rebecca frowned thoughtfully at him, standing straighter. “Desmond-”

“Nothing incriminating, promise,” Desmond assured. They knew everything they needed to, anyways. “I just want to let them know that I’m not dead, and maybe to water the plants.”

Because he did have some plants in his apartment that he was rather fond of. They were green, and living, and they brightened up the place. One of the things he missed most about the Farm was the nature and the small farms they had. It was isolating, sure, but it was also peaceful.

“Plants, really?” Rebecca asked, both eyebrows raised. Still, the look in her eyes was  _ intrigued _ , and Desmond knew he caught her attention. But Rebecca was a good person, so she thought about his request seriously. “Yeah, I can do that. We can set you up with an account in the Hephaestus Network, which is the Assassin email system. We already had the beginnings of one started for when you got here, it shouldn’t take too much work to make it active.”

“Thank you,” Desmond said. “Nonna especially needs to know I’m okay. I’m not saying that she’d take down Abstergo all by herself, but I’m not saying she  _ wouldn't _ , either.”

Baba, especially,  _ really _ needed to know. She wouldn’t do anything unless he  _ needed _ the help, but Desmond emphatically did not want it to reach that point. His captains were bad enough.

“Not a problem,” Rebecca said, grinning broadly at him. “I can work on it while we calibrate you in the Animus. It really isn’t that hard, honestly.”

Desmond smiled at her thankfully. He had expected her help, but it wasn’t the same as getting confirmation. “So, what do I do here anyways?”

“Just sit down and get comfortable,” Rebecca said, motioning to the chair. “I’ll hit you up with an IV, settle the scanners around your head, and you’ll be good to go.”

“An IV?” Desmond asked, looking at the cord that hung along the monitor that doubled as an arm rest.

“Psh, not much different than that needle that the table Animus had,” Rebecca said, waving her hand dismissively. “It gives me a more accurate reading of your vitals, is all. I decided to put it a further distance away from the actual scanner, for better control.”

Desmond eyed the chair again. “Okay,” he said after a long moment. He wasn’t scared of needles, in theory, but he  _ knew _ how many different substances that existed, and many of them were, frankly, terrifying. “I’m going to trust you, Rebecca.”

“Nah, I get you,” Rebecca said, “Thanks, though.”

Desmond climbed into the chair, and hummed appreciatively. Wow, it really was comfortable. “So, how does the calibration work?” he asked, settling in, and rolling his sleeve up and placing his arm on the rest.

His other selves all stood around, watching carefully. This was also a test for them, too, and they needed to know how it worked. If, and how, it could be manipulated.

“Well, we’re setting up the starting point, which I call the white room,” Rebecca said, slipping the IV into his arm. He grimaced lightly; Rebecca was being careful, but she wasn’t a trained nurse. It was lucky that his veins were so visible. “It’s sort of a loading area. The Animus in Abstergo had something similar, but that genuinely just  _ is _ the loading screen as it set up the environment. I added more to mine.”

“Yeah?” Desmond prompted. Rebecca turned to the helmet array, adjusting so that it settled around his head.

“One of Lucy’s ideas,” Rebecca said, “It would help smooth the transition between your body and the memory, so you’re not just jumping straight in. It also just helps loading times, really. But I’ve also added a really simple program, sort of like you’d get in a first-person shooter, if three-dee. You do a motion and the program reads it for more accurate motions.”

“Cool,” Desmond said.

And it really was. Just the programming itself, of taking a consciousness and placing it in a virtual reality, was already awesome. Man, but it revolutionized technology at nearly all levels. It made sense that Abstergo really wanted to patent the technology, nevermind their screwy genetic memory testing.

Rebecca grinned at him. “I think so, yeah. Things like this is why I love computers.”

“Okay,” Desmond sighed, and settled. It already was much more comfortable than anything Abstergo had. He closed his eyes. “Ready whenever you are.”

“Alright,” Rebecca said, and he heard her move away. “Okay. Sending you in in three, two, one-”

Desmond took a breath and felt the sensation fade, to be replaced by- something else. He was standing instead of reclining, and he opened his eyes.

The space he in was, quite literally, white and expansive. It was nearly identical to the space that he entered and exited the Animus from in Abstergo, but somehow much more inviting. Instead of walking through white fog that led nowhere, it was more like he was enclosed within clouds. Still white, still bright, and still empty.

He looked down to his body. Huh. It was himself, wearing everything that he had been wearing in reality. If Desmond focused too hard, it sort of- jerked around, like three-dee modeling that wasn’t set  _ just _ right.

“Why do I look like myself?” Desmond asked out loud. Lucy and Vidic had been able to speak  to him, so he assumed that Rebecca could. “In Abstergo, I was always represented as Altair.”

Which wasn’t as mind-bending as Desmond thought it’d be if he didn’t have direct access to Altair’s literal body, but whatever. No one needed to know that.

“ _ Because we aren’t trying to shove you into a memory right now, _ ” Rebecca said, voice slightly tinny as if coming through a speaker. Made sense. “ _ The Animus’ program, without a memory to pull a representative model from, pulled your sense of self into the model you currently see yourself as. If you worked at it, you could probably shape shift in there.” _

“...okay, that’s seriously actually pretty awesome,” Desmond said, and wondered if he could make himself look like his other selves. “Right, we’re here to calibrate.”

He closed his eyes, and reached for his other selves. Not sharing, but to bring them  _ here _ , with him. Another time, and he’d have to check to see if he could still visit  _ them _ …

“ _ I know, right? Hold on a sec, I’m going to load in some items and targets for you to work with _ ,” Rebecca said.

“Oh, this is weird,” Elise said, bringing a hand to her head.

“Not bad, though,” Ezio said, looking around.

“It’s much better than Abstergo, just by this,” Jun said, sighing in relief. “We’d have to check to see how it’d work with an actual memory, but this is already easier to work with.”

“ _ Huh _ ,” Rebecca said thoughtfully.

“Yeah?” Desmond asked curiously, looking up. Probably not where whatever camera existed was actually at, but it at least made sense. Rebecca didn’t seem like a trained-from-birth Assassin, who knew  _ up  _ was a very valid direction to exist in.

“ _ Nothing bad, promise _ ,” Rebecca assured, “ _ Just some strange brain readings. Looks like your brain is much more active in the Animus than we previously thought _ .”

“I  _ am _ trying here,” Desmond said dryly, carefully not looking in the others’ direction.

Huh. Was that how his brain always looked when he interacted with them, or was it because he was pulling them to him an extra step than to just where his body was? And it seemed that Rebecca didn’t see them, either.

“To be helpful, at least. In Abstergo it was mostly me trying not to die.” Desmond clarified.

Because that was a mess and a half. Rebecca’s Animus, even in these couple of minutes, was already ten times better.

Soft laughter from above. “ _ Yeah, I figured. Just something I noticed, it shouldn’t cause any problems _ ,” Rebecca said, “ _ Anyways, here we go. It’s basically a small obstacle course, with some weapons and targets. I figured if we’re training you to be an Assassin by sticking you in Assassin memories, you’d best get some feel for them here _ .”

“Thanks, I guess,” Desmond said, and looked around.

It really was simple. Nothing too strenuous. Honestly, it seemed  _ too _ simple, “I’m thinking this is just the first level?” Desmond asked.

“ _ Pretty much _ ,” Rebecca agreed, “ _ We want to work up to the fine control stuff. I’ve loaded the Animus with as much self-learning programs as I could, but it still needs stuff to learn from _ .”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re absolutely amazing?” Desmond asked.

He had listened to Ami and Seda talk computers long enough to know how hard it was to implement self-learning programs. Especially since most self-learning programming tended to be…  _ off _ until it reached the point of stability. If Rebecca trusted the programming around an actual human being, it had to be pretty advanced already.

“Can we keep her?” Ezio asked cheerfully. “We’re already keeping Lucy.”

“She is a package deal with Hastings, though,” Desmond pointed out privately.

He waited and- Rebecca didn’t react to that. Nice. It seemed as if their usual patterns of speaking to each other and to others worked in the Animus. Seemed it took the sense of self and recreated it as accurate as it could. He wondered if he tried to make his other selves visible if the Animus would detect them...

“You don’t hate him as much as you act,” Jun pointed out. “What did Ezio say? He’s very much like Malik?”

Desmond scowled at her. “None of you are going to let that go, are you? Why don’t you ever bring this up with Aveline?”

“Because Aveline isn’t identical to Altair,” Elise said easily.

“I really truly hate you guys,” Desmond muttered. He shook his head, and turned back to the obstacle course. “So, just go through as quickly as possible?”

“ _ Yeah. I’ll add more and more difficulties as you finish _ ,” Rebecca said.

Desmond rolled his shoulders. He definitely didn’t need it for this, but he’d better keep loose. For as simple as this was, he did not put it past Rebecca to multiply the difficulty instead of adding to it.

And he’d have to figure out if he wanted to use his true skill as himself, or make it look like he was being computer assisted. He trusted Rebecca at this point, but Lucy was still in charge of writing reports, and he absolutely did not trust Vidic.

Or his parents, but there were layers to  _ that _ that Desmond needed to see them face to face again to figure out.

“We can worry about it when we’re done here,” Ezio said, clapping Desmond on the shoulder. He grinned at him. “No reason not to go along with this right now, is there?”

“None of us have anything particularly important to do,” Jun said, shrugging.

“I do, actually,” Elise said, snorting, “I’d just rather be here in all honesty.”

Desmond made a sympathetic face. Yeah, Elise was dealing with some stressful things right now. This would probably seem like a vacation in comparison. “Okay. Here we go.”

0o0o0

Something was wrong.

Not  _ bad _ , just wrong, as if something in their carefully adapted view of the world had shifted. Like their hair, or their eyes, changing color. And not a completely different color, either, which would be noticeable. Like Ezio’s dark hair gaining its summer highlights, dark brown and coppery. Subtle, but still-

“Altair,” Desmond breathed. “It’s Altair, isn’t it?”

It fit. He had been unconscious after they had defeated Al Mualim, after the Apple did  _ something _ to them. But unlike before, when their bond would go blank when one of them was unconscious, they  _ felt _ him still. Distant, like he had been ignoring them, but  _ there _ .

Something had happened to Altair that made him fit differently, something none of them were used to.

Desmond took a deep, fortifying breath. Something was not  _ wrong _ . Nothing about their bond, about the connection the eight of them had could ever be wrong. Altair could never, ever be wrong. But- as shown, it could be  _ different _ .

So, he reached. Nothing had felt off, before, other than their notice that they could still feel Altair. It might’ve been the fact that they were all too exhausted to notice, but that couldn’t be it. Something had to have happened to Altair  _ now _ that brought it to their attention.

“Altair,” Desmond said, and watched as his other selves appeared in Masyaf alongside him. He looked around, and found that they were standing on top the tallest parapet. It was a familiar place, and he relaxed at the sight.

Altair sat there, facing the distant view. He wasn’t leaning against the taller edge, but rather his legs were out, hanging over the edge. Not a position unfamiliar to them all, but one they rarely went into. It wasn’t a position that lent itself to quickly moving.

“Altair,” Desmond walked forward with the others. He had appeared the closest, with Aveline, so they were the ones to wrap Altair into a hug from behind first. The others all pressed closer, and they breathed together. “Are you okay?”

It was confusing. He was so used to just  _ knowing _ . And- Desmond felt he could  _ know _ , if he focused, like he always did. But it felt like Altair was holding back? Or, not holding back, but just standing apart. Which wasn’t right. They existed together or not at all.

“Yes and no,” Altair said, and leaned back into their hold. Desmond couldn’t see his face, but he felt Altair sigh and  _ knew _ his eyes closed.

Desmond shared a glance with Aveline over Altair’s head, and held him tighter.

There was no need to say anything like ‘we are here’ and ‘you can tell us’ because they always did. They knew that already. It beat through their hearts, a part of them. Honestly, they wouldn’t have ever thought otherwise. It simply wasn’t in their nature.

So, now it was a waiting game. Altair would tell them, or show them, and then they’d know how to go from there. It might be within the next few minutes, or it might take a couple of days as Altair gathered his strength. It didn’t need immediate attention, so they’d let the matter sit until then.

Until then, they pulled Altair into that mental space, and held him close. They gave him their strength and their love, and their constant assurance that everything would be okay. It was a warm loop as they fed into each other, and it helped  _ them _ just as much as it did Altair. They always were strongest when together like this.

Desmond didn’t know how long they all stood there, wrapped up in each other, but it couldn’t have been too long. No one had come to grab Altair, like Malik would have if they’d been gone for longer than necessary. Maybe half an hour at most.

Altair took a deep, shaky breath. Desmond and Aveline hugged him tighter, and the others did the same behind them, and he felt Altair relax minutely.

“You good?” Aveline murmured into his hair.

“Better, with you here,” Altair said quietly.

“Always,” Desmond agreed. It was echoed by the others.

“You ready to tell us?” Aveline asked.

Altair sighed. “Yes. I just need to figure out how to say it.”

“No pressure. We have all the time in the world,” Aveline said.

0o0o0

When Desmond returned to his actual body, he found Rebecca and Lucy watching him with concerned eyes. He winced internally. If he was gone for the better part of an hour, focused entirely on Altair… yeah, he’d be concerned too. Those that knew of the eight of them didn’t  _ like _ that their minds up and left to a different time and place, but at least they knew better than to be truly worried about them.

“Hey, what’s up?” Desmond asked nonchalantly.

“Desmond, are you okay?” Lucy asked, a hand hovering over his shoulder. She seemed hesitant to touch him at all.

Crap. Did he do anything? When they visited each other, their bodies tended to go on autopilot. Mostly they just stood or sat there, but sometimes they reacted if their bodies were interacted with. And that could be bad, depending on who it was and what they did. Desmond didn’t think he’d hurt Rebecca or Lucy, but he might’ve done something worrying.

“Yeah, why?” Desmond asked, tilting his head. “I said that I’d take a nap for my lunch break, didn’t I?”

And he did! He ate a sandwich quickly, and then climbed into his bed to visit Altair. Desmond made sure to tell them that he was napping so that they knew he wasn’t just lost in his own head.

“Yeah, you did,” Rebecca agreed, “But we’ve been trying to get you to wake up for the past fifteen minutes.”

“Oh,” Desmond said, frowning. Well, he had been ignoring everything but Altair. And nothing pressing had pulled him back to his body. “I didn’t realize. Sorry?”

Lucy frowned. “Desmond, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Lucy,” Desmond sighed, “I’m  _ still _ recovering from Abstergo. I’m a lot better than I was, even with just a full night’s sleep, but my head is still scrambled. I know I offered to continue using the Animus, but we all know that’s just going to make me worse.”

Desmond wasn’t lying. The worst of his headache had left, but he was still tired. He and his other selves were tired. It didn’t help that they didn’t have time to just recover from what had happened, either. Desmond was here with an Assassin cell, and Altair was in Masyaf dealing with the aftermath of a coup. It’d be a while before either of them could just pass out for a solid week, and even then it wouldn’t be the week they needed.

Lucy winced lightly. Desmond refused to apologize. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to take care of himself. People depended on him.

“So, where were you?” Rebecca asked curiously, pushing past that particular display.

“What?” Desmond asked, blinking in surprise at her.

“You were practically unconscious,” Rebecca said, “In a ‘no one is home’ kind of way, instead of just the sleepy way. Where’d you go?”

Desmond stared at her, and then snorted. “In Masyaf, actually, with Altair,” he said wryly.

“Really?” Rebecca asked. She sat down on his bed. “What was that like?” She waved her hand when Lucy frowned at her. “Yeah yeah, I know, the Animus did some pretty bad things to you. But you were also living memories of what life was one thousand years ago in the Middle East.”

“Outside of the assassinations, you mean?” Desmond asked.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

Desmond hummed in thought. That was honest curiosity, he felt. Lucy also paid more attention, though that did make sense. She’d know all about Altair Ibn-La’Ahad, since she was born into the Order.

“Different, but also the same, as the culture you’d find here in our times. People were still people. The Holy Land was going through some troubles and it sort of created a schism. Christians and Saracens didn’t hate each other, but they did not like each other, either. Though I think that was more on the war that happened around them, rather than their own feelings on each other, in the first place,” Desmond said.

“So, like today,” Rebecca said.

“Pretty much,” Desmond agreed wryly. “Altair was only half Saracen, did you know? His mother was a Christian woman, from England. He often used that to his advantage.”

It was actually his maternal grandmother that took his toddler mother to Masyaf, where she was trained as a Sister. But that was more information than they needed.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Rebecca said.

“It is,” Lucy agreed, “Much of what we know about Altair was from after he became the Mentor, and everything he did during his tenure. There’s practically nothing about his life previous to it, and it’s not because the information was destroyed. It just wasn’t deemed important, I think.”

It wouldn’t be. The culture of Masyaf was that life was transient, so you kept to yourself what was  _ yours _ greedily. Assassins in that city-state barely owned their own bodies, with everything dedicated to the Order. But they were still human, still people, and therefore under what Assassins were supposed to protect.

Compromises were made. They couldn’t own much of anything, so their lives outside of training and missions was  _ theirs _ . If it wasn’t vital information that the Order needed to know, then it simply wasn’t written down.

It was likely the Codex that Altair was supposed to write was how most of the information about Masyaf and its Assassins was found. That lack of recordkeeping was one of the things that they had planned to change about the Order, if only a little. Records would be kept, because who knew when that information would be needed, and less restrictions would be placed on the Assassins themselves.

“Yeah,” Desmond agreed. “Not that I like having such clear memories of that one summer, or that I’m kind of dreaming about the rest of his life, but I like knowing how similar and dissimilar it is to what I grew up with.”

Rebecca eyed Desmond. “Why don’t you tell Shaun that? He was a history professor before he became an Assassin. He’d love to talk to you about this.”

Desmond made an exaggerated face at her. “Do I have to?”

Lucy covered her mouth to hide her smile.

Rebecca snorted. “You don’t hate him. You barely even dislike him.”

“He’s still an asshole,” Desmond said. “I wouldn’t mind talking history at him, there’s actually some things I wanted to ask. But I’m not going to try and make friends if he doesn’t get over himself soon.”

“Sarcasm is a part of his personality though,” Lucy said amusedly.

“Oh, I don’t mind sarcasm,” Desmond said. He was used to it, with seven other selves that were absolutely not afraid to tease each other. “I don’t like that he doesn’t know how to apologize when he makes a mistake. Sure, it’s stress. But that doesn’t give anyone a right to take it out on other people.”

Lucy and Rebecca blinked at him in surprise. Desmond frowned at them. What, was this one of those things that were so obvious they didn’t think about it? That was mild betrayal on Rebecca’s part. He thought she was the most emotionally intelligent of them, and she’d have known this already. Not to mention that their ‘soft’ Assassin training should have covered this.

Rebecca watched Desmond intently, and then nodded. She seemed more serious than she normally did. “Yeah, I get you,” she said. “I’m used to Shaun, so I know how he feels about things and what he does and doesn’t mean. But you’re a stranger, so none of us really had no reason to make assumptions about you.”

Desmond blinked at her, and then scowled. “Fuck. All the information you have about me is from my  _ parents _ , isn’t it?”

Both Lucy and Rebecca winced at that.

Well, here came his anxiety rushing back. It was enough that Evie appeared at his side, looking sternly at Lucy and Rebecca. Fuck. Is that why they thought he was an idiot?

“Yeah, sorry,” Rebecca offered. “I didn’t take a lot of it to heart, promise, but it might have clouded our judgment prematurely. Shaun especially, since Bill worked the most with him.”

Desmond groaned and placed his head in his hands. Evie placed a steady hand on his back and ran soothing circles on it. “Dammit.”

“We’ll talk with him,” Lucy promised. She finally placed her hand on his shoulder, though the touch was light.

“Please,” Desmond said.

0o0o0

  
  



	25. I May Fall 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we have part 13 of desmond's story. it kind of came out of nowhere lol. i think the characters all felt like talking.
> 
> i love Ratonhnhaké:ton but have done him a dirty in not using him more. he's such a quiet sort of background character until he's suddenly not lol. not to mention what's coming up soon...
> 
> writing this chapter made me realize how short a time it's actually been? they escaped from abstergo, then slept for half the day, then spent time working with rebecca in the animus... man, desmond moves both very fast and incredibly slowly lol. i dunno if i'll cover more time as we get further into the plot or if things will get slower. eh, whatever will happen will happen.
> 
> also, your comments! <3 i love you guys it really does help

Desmond dropped into the bed, face down, groaning heavily and with feeling. It was a sturdy bed, and the mattress and blankets were soft and well-worn, even if they were a little scratchy. He didn’t bother checking to see  _ whose _ bed it was, only that he was in a safe location. Anywhere was better than the awkward place he had just come from.

“You’re having a hard time of it, aren’t you?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked bluntly, though he wasn’t unsympathetic.

Desmond turned slightly to look at him. He was geared up, and oiling his hidden blade. His hood was down though. “Hi,” he greeted, and pressed his face back into the pillow.

“Why do we always end up together when your parents are brought up?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked amusedly.

Desmond made a noise of complaint, which stopped when Ratonhnhaké:ton pressed his hand on his back. He didn’t have his gloves on, but the weight of it was warm and comfortable. Desmond turned his head to speak more clearly. It didn’t matter, they heard each other regardless, but the idea of it was important.

“Because we both have problems with our dads?” Desmond offered. “At least, I think it’s my dad. He’d be the one that had final say on outsiders being brought into the Order.” His mother was also more self-aware than his dad ever was, from what he remembered.

Ratonhnhaké:ton didn’t make a face, but Desmond was too used to him by now. That was agreement right there. “Is it easier, I wonder,” he said, “That I know where my father is, and can reach him easily? Or that even separated as you are, your father is causing you problems regardless?”

“It depends,” Desmond said, turning to his side. “You know your father is a piece of work, and always has been, and is what can be considered an enemy no matter what. My father is supposed to be my superior and leader, but is instead causing issues as if he sees me as a potential enemy and is turning others against me. Even if on accident.”

And wasn’t that the kicker right there. Desmond didn’t think that his father  _ meant  _ to make it look like he had been an ungrateful child, who left a loving family to go make a mess of his own life. That’s exactly what happened though, and Hastings had some rather negative preconceived notions about Desmond and his relationship with his father disproven.

Where the fuck was the love and praise for Desmond’s skills when he was actually  _ there _ ?

Not that Hastings believed him, really. Maybe that he wasn’t as deadbeat as he thought, but he still didn’t like him. At least now he wouldn’t take out that on Desmond for no good reason. Desmond didn’t think that Hastings would like him at all, but it was better than outright hostility.

Ugh. It had to be one of those things that only made sense when presented with the reality of the situation. And Desmond really,  _ really _ did not want to meet his father again. Especially not to  _ just _ make a point of something.

“You’re planning for your siege on Fort George,” Desmond said, eyeing all of the weapons and tools laid out. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, so best to focus on what someone else was doing.

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s entire  _ life _ was one of those things that Desmond just shrugged at and moved on with his life. Because if he got excited for literally anything that Ratonhnhaké:ton was doing, he’d stress himself into an early heart attack. Desmond was living sideways to the American Revolution, yes, it’s cool, moving on.

“I am,” Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed. He went back to oiling his blades, taking his hand off of Desmond’s back. He missed the weight immediately, but Ratonhnhaké:ton had more important things to worry about.

“I think our collective mid-twenties are going to give us all stress ulcers,” Desmond mused, thinking over everything that happened to all of them in the past couple of years.

Ezio and Evie were actually the ones that had the easiest time of it, with their big life-changing revelations happening in their teens. Unless something happened in the next couple of years, but Desmond was being willfully ignorant. It was all good things for them moving forward.

“I’m sure we’ll all have a breakdown some point in the future,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “But for now we have each other to keep us going.”

“I dunno, you’re pretty strong all on your own,” Desmond said, watching Ratonhnhaké:ton.

He smiled amusedly when Ratonhnhaké:ton blushed, the tips of his ears turning a deep red. Not a lie, though. It was Ratonhnhaké:ton that they drew upon when they were faltering and needed the sheer grit to move forward. It wasn’t stubbornness, exactly, but very close.

“And I’d be less so without you,” Ratonhnhaké:ton replied.

“We’d be less so without each other,” Desmond agreed, and returned to his stomach to press his face back into the pillow. He felt better, with Ratonhnhaké:ton there. He felt better just being away, but that was a separate issue.

What did it say about recent events that he felt like smothering himself in his pillow almost every day?

“You are just being overdramatic,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, having picked up on his thoughts.

“I am  _ not _ ,” Desmond said, and pressed his face further into the pillow. He didn’t need to breathe while visiting the others, which was why he could do this.

“Desmond,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

Desmond paused. “Fine. I am being overdramatic. I don’t care. I don’t want to deal with Hastings or Lucy or Rebecca right now. And I definitely don’t want to deal with my parents. If I want to act like a five year old, I  _ will _ .”

“I never said anything about you stopping,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said amusedly. “Or that there was anything wrong with it.”

“You didn’t have to  _ say _ anything,” Desmond grumbled. For all that Ratonhnhaké:ton spent the least amount of time teasing compared to the others, it didn’t mean that he was incapable of it. Of course it was like this that Desmond was forcefully reminded of it.

“I don’t say a lot of things,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

“Oh, I’m sure Achilles hears every bit of it,” Desmond said. The old man had the uncanny ability to know when exactly he was being sassed at, no matter that nothing was said. Actually,  _ especially _ if nothing was said, considering that oftentimes it wasn’t even Ratonhnhaké:ton that sassed him.

With that, they both went silent, just being appreciative of each other’s presence. It was nice, and peaceful, for all that tension that hung over Ratonhnhaké:ton. It was a near permanent thing now, with the war going on, so Desmond did his best to be a soothing presence in return.

When Ratonhnhaké:ton was done oiling his weapons, he turned to Desmond. “You’re going to have to head back eventually.”

“I don’t want to,” Desmond said, flipping over and throwing his arm over his eyes. He had already gone through the second half of his day in the Animus, as promised by the nine-to-five work schedule.

“You did promise to make them dinner, though,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

Desmond sighed. “I did, didn’t I?” He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. “Ugh. I can’t let Hastings keep me from that, either. Nonna especially would find out and she’d be  _ so _ disappointed in me. Not to mention Seda…”

“You’ve already made your move forward. If Hastings cannot accept that, then it is not your fault, nor your responsibility,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “You can be polite and not let your feelings get in the way, but you do not owe him much of anything else, either.”

“It’s up to him at this point, you mean?” Desmond asked.

Ratonhnhaké:ton inclined his head. “Yes.”

“I know,” Desmond said, closing his eyes.

He  _ knew _ that. But it wasn’t any more fun dealing with it than previously. In fact, it might even be worse, considering that they weren’t that many places to go in the hideout. They both needed the space. Except that Desmond could visit his other selves, and Hastings was stuck.

Honestly, Desmond figured that half the reason why Assassin cells were caught out had to be the constant stress of living in each other’s pockets.

Even the eight of them spread their time with each other over different people. As much as they all loved each other and got along, it would get  _ tiring _ to spend time with them all at once all of the time.

If he was sticking with this cell, then there were some other decisions that Desmond needed to make. Now that he was stopping to actually think about it, he’d realized that he’d been making plans in the back of his mind for it. Training them to fight, beyond what they already knew. Teaching them some new skills that were actually old, and lost over the centuries. Adding to the skills that they already had, especially with what Isra had taught the eight of them.

It was something that they all had gotten used to doing. It was practically second nature to them, and it actually started with Ezio. He had taken the skills and knowledge of what the rest of them knew, and started training Claudia, and then Petruccio. Altair helped teach Kadar, and then later the other children. As Desmond’s makeshift gang in New York grew, he also started teaching them. Whatever Evie knew, she soon taught Jacob. Ratonhnhaké:ton had his novices.

“Start with Rebecca,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “She is the one you trust the most right now, and has proven herself to want to help was almost no ulterior motive. Where she goes, Hastings will follow, even if he’ll complain about it all the while.”

“Lucy, of course, is a separate issue,” Desmond sighed.

She required some devoted attention, and that wasn’t even taking into account that she was a Templar. Lucy was in charge of sending reports not just to Vidic and Abstergo, but to his parents. To get her to turn away from her rather detail oriented mission, he’d have to get her trust. He felt like he had a good start already, but who knew how she actually felt. Their Eagle Vision helped a lot, but it left out nuance that Desmond needed.

“You cannot be slow about it,” Ratonhnhaké:ton pointed out, “It’s been less than two days, but she will already have sent out reports by now.”

“I know,” Desmond said. He sighed heavily, stretching his arms over his head. “And I’ll try and talk with her some more at dinner.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled wistfully. “Hopefully you will have more luck with her than I had with my father.”

“She’s more adaptive than he is, I think,” Desmond said, “Though I don’t think that’s too hard, in all honesty.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton snorted in agreement. “Get going, Desmond. Dinner is not being made without you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Desmond said, rolling his eyes. He hopped out of bed, and pressed his cheek to Ratonhnhaké:ton’s head, a sideways kiss to his hair. “See you later.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton hummed in agreement, and Desmond returned to his own body. He was in bed, again, curled up in the top blanket, hiding from the world. Because that was his life now, apparently.

But none of them were ones to hide from their problems indefinitely. Maybe a quick breather to gather their wits, but that was about it. So, Desmond climbed out of bed, adjusted his clothes and ran a hand through his hair, and took a breath. Time to face the awkward music.

Dinner was a good start. Food always made things better even when it felt like it didn’t. And Hastings did go out for groceries yesterday, so…

Desmond hummed and went into the small kitchen, searching for ingredients. He passed by the others on the way in, and they all carefully ignored each other. Well, Rebecca at least threw him a thumbs up, but even Lucy was focused on her own work. Considering the brief… conversation, if it could be called that, they had it seemed Desmond wasn’t the only one that just wanted some space.

He didn’t make anything fancy, even if he would have liked the distraction. It was all large meals that could keep for a couple of days, so that they had leftovers to eat. But Desmond made absolutely certain that it was good food, because there were several people in New York that would be disappointed in him if he didn’t. And he hated disappointing them, because then he just felt guilty.

“Dinner’s ready!” Desmond called, grabbing some plates and utensils. He served himself a plate of food, and then went to sit on the edge of the Animus chair. He made himself available to talk, and if these three were  _ any _ good at what they did, they’d recognize it immediately.

Rebecca sat in her desk chair, and made a noise of appreciation. “Oh my god, Desmond, this is amazing.”

Desmond smiled, pleased. “You’re only saying that because you’ve had nothing but takeout since you got here,” he said.

“Well, yeah, but this is actually really good,” Rebecca said. She pointed a fork at him. “You are now and forever on cooking duty.”

Lucy also sat close to him, though she looked kind of awkward doing so. “Oh,” she said, looking at her plate of food, “This is  _ really _ good. Thank you, Desmond.”

“You’re welcome,” Desmond said. Score one for Seda and her recipes!

Hastings was the last of them to arrive, and he frowned heavily at no one in particular. Desmond let him be, recognizing the hit to his ego that it was. Desmond really didn’t have anything against Hastings in particular, so he hoped that he did the Assassin thing and adapted to the situation. He had too many people relying on him for this to cause problems.

“...this is good,” Hastings said quietly, each word bitten as if it pained him to say them. He sighed. “Thank you, Desmond.”

Desmond hummed a non committal answer, aware that pretty much anything he said right now would be perceived as a slight. Hastings was smart enough to know that it was an irrational response, but that didn’t stop feelings from being feelings.

He saw Rebecca keeping an eye on Hastings, even as she ate. Desmond relaxed; Rebecca knew what she was doing and would take care of Hastings. There was a sense of responsibility there. If Desmond couldn’t trust anything else, he could trust that at least.

“You’re doing well,” Evie said, sitting next to him and watching the other three. “I suppose this is just more proof overall that we were right to leave the Farm,” she mused.

“It was too stifling,” Aveline agreed. Desmond greeted her, aware that she had been spending most of the day with Altair, who needed the company the most. “We knew that the Order had become more militaristic, but also it was just… tiring, to be there.”

“At this point, we can safely assume that Rebecca and Hastings were not born into the Order,” Evie said, “Though Hastings spent too much time with your father, if he is so unwilling to bend even now.”

“You’ll need to learn why they were brought into the Order if you want a chance to steal them from the Assassins,” Aveline said.

It wasn’t that simple, really. Still, Desmond agreed with them. Things might be complicated, but they didn’t need to have complicated answers. He wanted Lucy and Rebecca on his side. Or, at the very least, not with either the Templars or Assassins.

He really needed to send a message out. Rebecca said his email account was active, but he had been distracted before he could do anything. Tonight, then, after dinner. Ami had come up with a code that he could use pretty easily, and to tell them about the cell he was currently with.

Desmond would also ask her to send a message to Erudito to see if they could help hide them from Abstergo. They likely knew about Desmond as Subject Seventeen, so it might be easier to ask for their help than any previous time.

Maybe he could have them send him all the info they could on Sixteen.

Desmond cleaned his dishes quickly, and started putting the extra food away, glad that they had a fridge here.

Even if they were hiding- and he had his suspicions that Abstergo knew exactly where they were- this was comfortable at least. He figured that they had a few more days before Vidic got impatient with how slowly they were working through the memories that Desmond was  _ supposed _ to be going through. That was plenty enough time to get started.

“Hey, Rebecca?” Desmond asked when she came into the kitchen next.

“Yeah?”

“Can you show me my email? I’d like to send that message out now,” Desmond said.

“Yeah, sure,” Rebecca said, yawning. “This way, I’ll let you use my laptop for now.”

Right. She didn’t sleep much at all last night, did she? If he was keeping her, he’d have to help her figure out her schedule. If he didn’t allow any of his captains to work more than a night with no sleep, Desmond wouldn’t let any of his people.

“Oof, thank you,” Desmond said. He did not spend the past few years with Ami in his life to know how much of a privilege that was.

Rebecca grinned lazily at him. “No problem, really. We’ll have to grab you a smartphone somewhere. You can get them pretty cheap if you go looking, and I definitely can repurpose it so that you can use it.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said, as Rebecca led him to her laptop. The casing was old looking and rather boxy, but that did nothing to hide how smoothly it ran, even when it was just booting up.

He shivered with the sudden mental image of Ami and Rebecca meeting. That had the potential of being world-breaking, and he wasn’t sure he could deal with that. There had to be a limit to his ability to adapt, and that sounded like it was near the edge of it.

“Here we go,” Rebecca said, and opened up an email. “I’ve given you a temporary password, so you’ll want to fix that as soon as possible. The Network supports twelve languages, including Arabic, Russian, Italian, and Spanish, so it can be whatever you want.”

“You can add a profile picture?” Desmond asked amusedly when she pulled up his profile.

“Yup!” Rebecca said. She pulled out her phone. “That reminds me,” she said, and held it up.

Desmond raised an eyebrow, and gave her a small grin. She snapped a picture, and then pressed a few buttons that he couldn’t see. After a couple of seconds, she returned to his shiny new profile and clicked the camera icon.

“Here you go!” Rebecca said cheerfully after scrolling through her many,  _ many _ pictures to the one she just took. “You now have a profile picture.”

It wasn’t a  _ bad _ picture, really. “Thank you?” Desmond offered.

Rebecca snorted, and pushed her laptop to him. “Here, change your password and write your email and stuff.”

Desmond nodded, and took the laptop from her. He changed his password first; an inside joke that spanned three languages. Then he wrote his message to Ami. It was simple, and wouldn’t incriminate anything about the Assassins. He made sure to let them know that he was okay, relatively safe, and working on something. He asked them to water his plants. He wrote a coded message about the truth about everything, and to please contact Erudito on his behalf.

Desmond read over his message again, and then sent it. If anyone snooped, they wouldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. “Thanks, Rebecca,” he said. He logged out of his profile and stepped away from the laptop.

“No problem,” Rebecca said.

She checked over her laptop. Desmond wouldn’t do anything, and Rebecca knew that, but she was still a computer person and this was her baby. Not Baby, as she’d lovingly nicknamed the Animus, but her child. Rebecca would be distraught if anything happened to the Animus. She would kill if anything happened to her laptop.

“No rush, but having a phone would be nice,” Desmond said, leaning against the desk.

“Yeah, I’ll get on that right away,” Rebecca said, making a face. “That was only a couple of minutes, but it still felt really wrong. Ugh.”

“I know how much of a sacrifice that was for you,” Desmond said seriously.

“You have no idea,” Rebecca said, and rubbed at her face with her hands. “Ugh.”

“Yeah, I’ll leave you to recover from that,” Desmond said, “I’m going to go talk to Lucy.”

“Yeah, go do that,” Rebecca said, waving him away. “Tomorrow- yeah, tomorrow, I’ll definitely have a memory for you to get into.”

Desmond made a face at her, didn’t disagree. He was lucky, he felt, in that the entire day was spent calibrating and figuring out the Animus. Rebecca monitored him from above, but he could actually control the program from within. It was tetchy, and Rebecca was still working on fine tuning it, but it was  _ there _ .

If he needed to, Desmond could remove himself from the Animus on his own. And having that agency was…  _ nice _ .

And it didn’t have to take that long, either. Rebecca was good at what she did, as evidenced by taking a different operating system and making it work with her own. She had taken the data Lucy brought her and basically reworked it to fit in the Animus 2.0. The fact that she had spent the entire day doing what amounted to what was, practically, nothing said a lot.

Rebecca might be the best person among their motley group of people.

He turned and walked to where Lucy was at her own station.

Desmond had spent some time thinking about how he could approach Lucy. There were so many ways that he could deal with it. The easiest, if longest, way to do it was act as himself with the others. The cruellest, he felt, was attacking all of her weak points and causing her to doubt herself.

Instead, he was going to do his best to treat Lucy as herself. She was so focused on her role in both the Assassin and Templar Orders that she didn’t really worry about herself.

It was something that the eight of them had noticed, for both Assassins and Templars. Their feud had been going on for so long that it almost felt that the two Orders- Assassin or Templar, free will or power and control- were the  _ only _ paths that they could take.

Maybe, if Desmond and his other selves were truly singular instead of connected as they were, they would all feel the same. Even Elise, who grew up with Arno, would have trouble reconciling the differences between the two Orders. There was so much hurt done on both sides that it was hard for them to ever think about lowering their defenses.

But, as the eight of them lived, they were also  _ proof _ that there was more than two paths. That it wasn’t a fork in the road, but a windy twisty maze of intersecting lines. It was why even Elise had managed to internalize the Creed. Nothing was absolute, Everything was possible. It might be hard, and be a lot more work to handle, but one could  _ absolutely  _ choose what they were willing to do between the two Orders and make their own paths.

Desmond was not an Assassin by modern standards, and he was not a Templar.

None of them were.

And now, he needed to get Lucy thinking like that too. For  _ herself _ . His offer to help her escape may have planted a seed, but now he needed to nurture it.

“Hey,” Desmond said when he reached Lucy. “How’re you doing?”

Lucy blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re team leader,” Desmond pointed out, “But you’re also just out of years of undercover work. Disregarding both Assassins and Templars for the moment, that’s got to be hard on anybody.”

Lucy sighed heavily, and ran her hand over her face. She smiled wryly at him. “It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” she admitted.

Because she was being presented with two people that loved her and she loved in return, Desmond thought. Though the red and blue remained level, her overall aura was shifting in discontent. She wasn’t one to just up and abandon her loyalties, but now Lucy was being reminded about what she had to lose.

And she knew that anything she did to follow orders would be a betrayal.

“That offer to get you out still stands,” Desmond said quietly.

Lucy didn’t need her hand to be held. She was a grown woman with her own skills and accomplishments, and Desmond didn’t need to patronize her. But she could still use a friend.

Lucy looked up at him. “...I’m still thinking about it,” she replied, just as quietly.

She honestly was. It wasn’t even a day, and it definitely wasn’t a decision that could be made so quickly. Still, it was one that she needed to figure out quickly. Desmond liked her and wanted to help her, but there was only so much that he could do if Lucy was unwilling.

“Just as long as you don’t forget,” Desmond said.

“I won’t. I promise,” Lucy said.

0o0o0

  
  



	26. I May Fall 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we have part 14 of desmond's story
> 
> this chapter was a bit hard to write, trying to fit things in without just throwing the words together haphazardly lol, though i think i did well enough?
> 
> things are definitely starting to pick up! here we get to the (start) of the stuff i've had in mind since practically the start of this story lol. it might not be what anyone else wants to read or expects, but remember guys, this story is still ridiculously self-indulgent. though i hope you're all having fun as i go

That night, Desmond found himself with Altair.

He looked around and saw that Altair was once again alone, though he wasn’t on their usual parapet. No, they were in the Library, at the top where the Mentor’s open office was situated. The idea of it was that the Mentor was never locked away from the people they led, and that they were in easy access to the knowledge that they were to teach others.

Even so, it felt constricting. Desmond wondered if that was the weight of the Order that now rested on Altair’s shoulders. Their plan to make him Mentor was a long one, and to have it suddenly thrust on him years before they planned for it would be hard  _ normally _ , nevermind after such a betrayal. Now Altair had an Order that looked to him not just for leadership and strength, but for stability and the drive to push forward.

Altair wasn’t going through the paperwork like he had been, double checking all of the records to see what Al Mualim had done to the Order without their notice, helped along by Malik and the others. Altair stood at the window, overlooking the valley at the back of the castle.

“Altair,” Desmond greeted softly, and stood beside him. He grabbed Altair’s hand, and leaned against his shoulder.

The change in Altair was still new, and they were all still tired. They’d move past it of course, but until then they leaned into each other more than they normally did.

“Desmond,” Altair returned. He turned golden eyes on him, and Desmond met his gaze.

His eyes were never going to return to the light brown they used to be. At least, not for them, who had the second sight to perceive the color change. But as Altair rested and time passed, the color settled into a more natural gold instead of the one with the inner glow. Enough so that even Malik and Rauf, who did not have Eagle Vision, were starting to notice the change. That Elise didn’t need to borrow their second sight to see if they were using theirs.

Altair’s eyes were literally changing color, not just metaphorically.

Altair’s second sight was no longer his  _ second _ sight. They didn’t know whether to be terrified or not yet, unused to such an extreme change within any of them. Either way, they’d deal with the change like they handled everything else.

“How are you feeling?” Desmond asked.

He  _ knew _ , or he could find out, but much of their mental health dealt with talking with each other. It was when they couldn’t speak about it that they started properly worrying.

Altair smirked lightly, but he sighed heavily after a long moment. “Exhausted, but that goes without saying,” he said wryly.

Desmond snorted. “No shit, really?”

Altair leaned back into Desmond in amused reprimand. “...strangely content,” he admitted.

“How so?” Desmond asked. Because there was more to  _ that _ than just what Desmond thought Altair was saying.

“I feel victorious,” Altair said slowly, thinking it over. “I faced an enemy and reclaimed my territory from them, and protected my people. We are recovering well from the damage caused, and what illness remained is being rooted out.”

Desmond hummed. “Well, that’s definitely something to be  _ content _ about,” he allowed, “but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Because Altair had already explained what he had figured out earlier. That the Apple had reached out to him, testing, and found him  _ acceptable _ . They still weren’t certain  _ what _ , exactly, that meant, but they knew to keep an eye on both it and each other. With the Animus, they already figured out it was literally engraved into Altair’s blood- or rather, his DNA. Which was also incredibly worrisome as well.

“...we always ascribed our second sight, our Eagle Vision, to the eagle that lives within us, and shares with us its sight,” Altair started, as if testing the words themselves.

“Yes,” Desmond agreed.

It didn’t have to be an eagle, really, but they associated themselves with eagles above all other animals. Ratonhnhaké:ton was the first of them to reach for the bird within, as he nestled atop the trees, high above the ground where they all felt the most comfortable.

They already had their second sight, but becoming  _ aware _ of the eagle within their minds was like an evolution of it. It made sense that they started calling their second sight  _ Eagle Vision _ after the animal they most associated with it.

“There is no eagle,” Altair said simply.

Desmond blinked at him, and then raised his eyebrows. “That probably didn’t sound the way you wanted it to,” he said wryly. “Explain, please?”

Altair exhaled sharply. It wasn’t irritation, just a loud thinking noise. “It- our second sight, our Eagle Vision, it’s such an  _ abnormal _ sense that it is like there is another consciousness attached to it. Not sentient, or sapient, but as if it had its own direction of thought.”

“Yes,” Desmond agreed.

When they focused and consciously chose to  _ pay attention _ to things, it was as if they were using their own senses regardless. But if they were to just activate their Eagle Vision, it would almost work without any conscious input. The colors would guide their senses and their eyes to whatever they needed.

For the most part, their Eagle Vision was like the culmination of all of their senses, amplified, and it worked as such. Other times, it was like there was someone, or something, that nudged them in the right direction.

“But there is no one else.  _ Nothing _ else,” Altair said. He raised his free hand to rub at his face, looking thoughtful. “It’s just- me. I watch the world in colored smoke, and have wings that lead me to you. The eagle that once existed within my head doesn’t react to outside influence any longer. I do.”

“Oh,” Desmond said softly. The thing was, that made  _ sense _ . They were so used to switching their Eagle Vision ‘on and off’ that having it constantly  _ on _ would be kind of overwhelming. Altair  _ would _ be distracted if he was dealing with overstimulation. Desmond smiled, and nudged Altair with his elbow. “Well, we already knew you were an eagle in human skin.”

Altair snorted. “Yes. It’s just- strange, and something I need time to get used to. But also, I don’t feel wrong, or even  _ different _ . I am Altair, son of Umar and Maud. Nothing has changed about me, except that everything  _ has _ .”

“It’s a mental thing?” Desmond offered. “Is that why you feel- kind of separate, from us? Like you’re standing further away?”

Altair made a face, confused. “I feel that way?” he asked.

Desmond looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah. We thought you were ignoring us at first.”

Altair stared at Desmond incredulously. “Why would I ignore you?”

“That’s what we thought!” Desmond exclaimed, “It’s why we realized that something  _ had _ changed after we defeated Al Mualim.”

“...I see,” Altair said, frowning in thought.

Desmond studied him. “So, you don’t feel that you’re standing apart? Or, as apart as we ever get.”

Which was to say, not at all. Most of the supposed disconnect between the eight of them was rather flimsy, all told. The fact that they were eight separate people with different personalities and characteristics was a result of how stubborn they were individually.

Altair shook his head. “No. We feel as connected as we always do. In fact, it almost feels like we are closer than we were.”

“You don’t sound so certain about that,” Desmond said.

Altair sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it. It honestly might just be a mental thing, with how heavily we are all leaning on each other right now.”

“That’s true,” Desmond said.

With how stressful the past few weeks had been for… quite a few of them, actually, they relied on each other to keep afloat. Especially with the most recent events, regarding dealing with the Animus and Al Mualim.

Like Ratonhnhaké:ton had said, they were all probably going to have a breakdown sooner instead of later. They could only put it off dealing with it for so long.

“You’ll figure it out,” Desmond said. He looked out the window. It was a really nice view, wasn’t it? “In the meantime, you need to go to bed.”

“Do I have to?” Altair asked.

“If you’re  _ asking _ me that, then you really definitely have to go to bed,” Desmond said amusedly, nudging Altair with his elbow again. “Come on, I still need sleep too, and we can pull in the others. I’m sure they’ll appreciate everything you just told me.”

Altair rolled his eyes, but followed Desmond as he led him to his room. Kadar would be there, and then Altair would definitely sleep. Malik probably also needed some company and some proper rest. He worked as hard as Altair, but didn’t have the benefit of having other people in his head to share the burden.

“You’ll figure it out too,” Altair said softly.

Desmond sighed. Altair wasn’t the only one with sudden responsibilities over Assassins. “Yeah. We both will.”

0o0o0

Desmond stretched in the white expanse of the Animus loading screen. He didn’t need to go through the motions, really, but this place was powered by the mind as much as it was by the programming. He was about to do something taxing, so he’d best stretch to prepare for it.

At least he looked like himself for the moment. It would be changing soon enough. Desmond was to enter whichever memories of an ancestor that Rebecca and Lucy found. He had the inkling that it would be Ezio, since he was the one that Desmond last entered the memories of, but it could be literally anyone.

...he was morbidly curious to see who of his other selves he might be descended from, because he felt like Rebecca and Lucy could find that out for him, but it was a double edged sword. Did he  _ really _ want to know?

Aveline stood next to him, stretching as well. She had free time today, and would be the one to see how they interacted with this new Animus. They needed to figure out if Desmond needed them to help him move forward like before. Hopefully not. They had faith in Rebecca and her skills. If someone needed to remain with Desmond, it  _ shouldn’t _ be as involved as it was in Abstergo.

“ _ Alright, Desmond _ ,” Rebecca called from her place at the top. “ _ We found the memories we were looking for. _ ”

“Who is it?” Desmond asked.

“ _ Ezio Auditore da Firenze _ ,” Lucy said.

Desmond and Aveline made a face at the pronunciation. It was recognizably Ezio’s name, but Lucy’s accent was… off. Maybe they were being a bit too judgmental? Not everyone had the ability to share languages. Or the correct accents, since Italy was still separated into city-states during the sixteenth century.

“Ezio Auditore da Firenze,” Desmond corrected, though. At least he knew what to expect with Ezio, for the most part. He was a little less private in his affairs compared to Altair, for all that they didn’t care much regarding each other. “I’ve got an Italian ancestor, huh,” he added, to cover his bases.

“ _ You do _ ,” Rebecca said cheerfully. Much too cheerfully for this early in the morning. But that might just be a ploy, since Desmond had watched her chug the coffee and redbull mix without flinching. One of the most horrifying things Desmond had seen recently. “ _ A pretty famous one, too. He’s one of the ones they mention when they’re training new recruits, alongside Altair _ .”

Desmond and Aveline shared a glance, eyebrows raised. They knew that, since they lived several centuries after Ezio. But what  _ they _ knew, and how they interpreted history, was different than how others did.

“Give me a rundown?” Desmond requested.

“ _ Ezio, alongside Altair, are considered two of the most historically important Assassins today _ ,” Lucy said. “ _ I’m surprised you don’t actually recognize the name _ .”

“I recognize him now that you mention him,” Desmond said, “But I know an Ezio, so I suppose I just… didn’t bother to remember.”

Like hell he actually forgot. Desmond was willfully ignorant, though. Besides, it was oftentimes hard to associate the legendary Mentor of the Brotherhood and founder of the Order of Assassins as it led to the modern day with…  _ Ezio _ . One of his other selves.

They were making plans  _ now _ regarding Ezio becoming Mentor, just as they had with Altair, but when Desmond was at the Farm? Nope. Ezio hadn’t learned of his family’s association with Assassins until after Desmond left. Therefore, they just didn’t bother with any of it.

“ _ You know an Ezio _ ?” Rebecca asked curiously. “ _ It’s not really a common name, nowadays. Assassin or otherwise _ .”

“Yes,” Desmond said simply. Let them draw their own conclusions. They wouldn’t believe the truth anyways. “Remind me, then?”

Here, Hastings stepped in. “ _ Ezio Auditore, one of the most important Assassin figures in history, even if there’s practically no mention of him anywhere else. Par of the course regarding any Assassin, really, so it’s not a surprise. _ ”

“It is one of the tenants,” Desmond pointed out, amused.

“ _ Indeed _ ,” Hastings agreed dryly, “ _ Ezio was the Mentor of the Italian Brotherhood, and it was through his efforts that a lot of the key cities in Europe came under Assassin control for the next couple of centuries. He and his family ushered in what is commonly regarded as the Golden Age of Assassins _ .”

“Wow,” Desmond said, with feeling. Laid out like that, and it seemed a lot more impressive.

“Well, we have something to strive for at least,” Aveline mused, “Though would it be placing too large of expectations on him when we already know he’s going to do it anyways?”

“Yeah, we’re ignoring the time travel aspect of it,” Desmond told her privately. “Too much of a headache.” Aveline nodded in agreement.

“ _ We also know that he came into contact with several Pieces of Eden _ ,” Lucy said, “ _ Though they’re not what we’re looking for here. Besides, if the Pieces affected Ezio just as they did Altair’s genetic memory, then those memories might be locked anyways. _ ”

“ _ And we’re not doing that to you _ ,” Rebecca said, “ _ We’re just going for what we need, and nothing else, promise _ .”

“That’s good,” Desmond said. He felt relieved despite himself.

“The Templars did consolidate in Italy and the Vatican, as evidenced by their power within the actual Templar Knights during Altair’s time,” Aveline pointed out, “It makes sense that there would be numerous Pieces of Eden located in Italy.”

“So, you’re putting me in Ezio’s memories?” Desmond asked. “You have a time period in mind, or do I get to figure it out as we go?”

“ _ We’ve found several memories that include free-running _ ,” Lucy said, “ _ Which you’re already decent in, so it’s a good starting point. _ ”

“ _ There is one thing _ ,” Rebecca said, and she sounded hesitant.

Desmond frowned. That didn’t sound good. “What?”

“ _ It’s like there’s a lock on all of his memories that go through one point first, _ ” Rebecca said, and Desmond distantly heard her typing on her keyboard. “ _ I guess it was such a pivotal point in his life that literally everything we want access to sort of deals with it _ .”

“ _ I heard that trauma does that to a person, _ ” Hastings said dryly, “ _ But- yes, it’s a memory that I believe shaped how Ezio viewed himself and the world around him. _ ”

“ _ Yup. What memories we can access are either too early, or so late in life that we’d get nothing worthwhile from them, _ ” Rebecca said. A pause, and then she said amusedly, “ _ unless you’re that interested in what Ezio’s retirement was like _ .”

Desmond and Aveline shared a glance, uneasy. What? There wasn’t much of anything too terrible in Ezio’s life, was there?

At least, not in the life they shared so far. It might be later, but that wouldn’t make sense, either. If Lucy was serious about putting him in memories where Ezio went running over the roofs of  Italy, then there’d be memories before his ‘now’ concurrently to them. All eight of them learned from La Volpe.

Though the mention of retirement was something to keep in mind. Jun had met Ezio before, but those memories were sort of… well, they were memories they forgot, much of like everything that could alter how they lived their lives in their individual present. Those that  _ knew _ of Ezio through history could remember more of it, especially Desmond since he was the furthest ahead of the eight of them, but even then it was hazy.

Most of what they remembered was Ezio’s wife and his children. The love that Jun saw on Ezio’s face sort of echoed through all of them, which made them that much more intent on finding his future love. Desmond wouldn’t mind going through the genetic memory, even briefly, for more of a hint on that.

“So, I have to go through this memory to do anything else?” Desmond asked, uneasy. Aveline reached out to take his hand. Neither of them wanted to watch Ezio go through something supposedly so horrible.

Though why they wouldn’t know it already was worrisome. That way led the idea that they  _ forgot _ about it, even beyond what they normally did. Which meant that they  _ couldn’t _ do anything about it. And  _ that _ was probably even worse than just going through the memory in the first place.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Lucy said, and she sounded regretful. “ _ But we’d rather start with Ezio, since we already have access to his memories. We could search for other ancestors, but we’re going for the easiest possible path first. _ ”

Desmond took a breath. The only way they would see what would happen would be to move forward. “Alright then. How do we do this?”

“ _ Well, we’re going to place you in the loading screen first of all, _ ” Rebecca said, “ _ get you acclimated to Ezio’s skin _ .”

“I thought this was the loading screen?” Desmond asked.

He and Aveline made a face at each other. Yeah, the Animus was enough like a video game that words like  _ skin _ popped up, but there was something very… not right about referring to Ezio as a skin. Even if it fit, in more than one way.

“ _ Nope, this is more like a waiting room, _ ” Rebecca said, “ _ The programs used to put you into memories aren’t loaded, so there’s no need for the loading screen. _ ”

“Makes sense,” Desmond said.

“ _ So, we’re going to switch you over to the actual program. I honestly have no idea how that’s going to be in the moment, but it shouldn’t be a problem _ ,” Rebecca said.

Desmond made a face at the sky. “I am so glad to be your guinea pig,” he said dryly. Still, he didn’t bother with anything more. If Rebecca was trying it out on him, then it  _ was _ safe enough to use. She wouldn’t stand for anything less.

“ _ You should be _ !” Rebecca said cheerfully, “ _ Much more humane than anything Abstergo does, right? _ ”

“Sure,” Desmond said amusedly. Not that was  _ hard _ , mind.

“ _ Alright you two _ ,” Lucy said, somehow sounding both exasperated and amused, “ _ We’re going to get started now. In three, two, one… _ ”

The blank white expanse didn’t change visually, though he did notice a slight ripple. Desmond blinked, and he found himself in Ezio’s body. No, not  _ actually _ Ezio. The skin. A virtual representation of him, especially considering that he was shorter than he remembered.

“He must’ve been sixteen or seventeen for this memory,” Aveline said, frowning. She thumbed the scar on her lip, which both Ezio and Desmond had. “He doesn’t have the scar yet.”

Desmond made a face at her. “Please tell me I don’t have to relive getting hit in the face with a rock,” he complained privately. “It was bad enough the first time.”

“I don’t know,” Aveline shrugged, “I don’t think  _ that’s _ a memory that would be so scarring as to be necessary to view. But it might be in roughly the timeline?”

“ _ You’re adapting rather well _ ,” Rebecca said from above, “ _ Not that I’m surprised, really, but it’s nice to see. _ ”

Desmond shrugged. “It’s not so bad. But I’m not really doing anything right now, either.”

“ _ Okay, move forward, _ ” Lucy said, and he heard her typing. “ _ We’ll try something new. We’ll load the assets for the memory around you like this, until you hit that point where you’ll enter the actual memory. Hopefully it’ll ease the transition. _ ”

Desmond took a breath, and started walking. As he did, he watched as blank white walls came into being around him, taking shape from abstract shards of  _ white _ .

It was like watching glass break in reverse, and it was incredibly odd. Also pretty awesome to watch. There weren’t any colors yet, just the structure.

“ _ We’re doing a quick obstacle course first _ ,” Rebecca said, “ _ A way to pre-sync before the actual memory. Shouldn’t be too difficult _ .”

“If you say so,” Desmond said, and jumped up. Everything was closer than his actual jump height and climbing ability, mimicking what Rebecca had done yesterday.

Next to him, Aveline followed easily. It was relaxing, the easy motion of it. The lack of  _ life _ in the surroundings was strange, but the movement was familiar. Stepping between footholds with easy jumps, or clinging to hand holds and swinging from them instead. It could be literally anywhere the eight of them were from.

It was very industrial in design at first. Flag poles and support beams over narrow alleys, much like the construction sites Desmond worked on. As they pressed forward, the buildings became lower set, and the poles became wooden in nature, much like how they were in Renaissance Italy. The transition was smooth, and Desmond almost didn’t notice it.

“Wow,” Aveline said in agreement with his thoughts when they reached a flat place to walk, “that was good.”

“Was that you Rebecca, or Lucy?” Desmond asked, looking around. “This is Italy, right? I almost didn’t notice.”

“ _ A bit of a joint effort _ ,” Rebecca said smugly.

“ _ I’m glad you did notice, considering the difference _ ,” Hastings said.

“I think it’d be that Rebecca and Lucy were better than me than my complete lack of observational skills,” Desmond said dryly.

“ _ And we weren’t good enough? _ ” Lucy said with amusement, “ _ Okay, I know I’m supposed to write reports to your parents, but now it’s actually kind of personal _ .”

Desmond raised his eyebrows. “Okay, if that helps,” he said, and meant it.

Small steps, all in the name of getting Lucy free.

“ _ Alright, your sync is high enough so far, _ ” Rebecca said, bringing them back to the point. “ _ You should start approaching the start of the memory we have, if we planned things out right. But it’s not an exact science, so you might have to wander a bit. _ ”

“I’m good at wandering,” Desmond said, and moved forward. He and Aveline looked around, watching everything assemble itself. It was both so incredibly familiar and yet… not. If he hadn’t lived in Florence right alongside Ezio, he’d likely not have noticed. “How many assets do you have to match the memory?” he asked.

“ _ Quite a bit, _ ” Rebecca said proudly, “ _ But it’s still a computer program. I’m proud of what we’ve got, of course, but we’d need at least another decade of dedicated development to really accurately portray what life is at a realistic level. It’s a lot of repetitive asset use to get what you see right now _ .”

“ _ At least without slipping into uncanny valley _ ,” Lucy added, “ _ There’s so many nuances to lifelike movement that we’re actually relying on your own perceptions to provide the movement of the NPC we have programmed in _ .”

“ _ Shaun actually helped with developing the textures for Renaissance Italy, though I did most of the rigging _ ,” Rebecca said, “ _ We knew we’d be focusing on Ezio, so we put a lot towards it. _ ”

“ _ Not all of them, mind _ ,” Hastings input, “ _ But quite a bit. Let me tell you, I may be a historian but I am not that invested in clothes. _ ”

“Fashion history is human history,” Aveline said to Desmond, eyebrows raised. “Or at least a large facet of it.”

“I know that, you know that, and I have the feeling that  _ he _ knows that, but it’s probably still something he’s not as interested in,” Desmond pointed out.

“I wonder what his focus is?” Aveline mused, “If he’s in the Order, than he might have expanded what he researched for their benefit, but he had to start  _ somewhere _ .”

“I can ask later,” Desmond said.

“You do that,” Aveline said imperiously, turning her nose up exaggeratedly at him. Desmond snorted.

Not a minute later, Desmond triggered the memory. Synching into it wasn’t as hard as it was in Abstergo, for which he was thankful. Aveline wasn’t necessary to be  _ there _ , smoothing out the aspects that Desmond still wasn’t exactly sure they did, but her presence helped. It stopped him from diving too deep in, where he would want to share  _ with _ Ezio what was obviously his life, much like that disastrous first attempt with Altair.

Something was  _ off _ , though. It was as if Ezio was the only person that existed. There was no mention of the others at all, even when they should be present. Like with Duccio. Desmond remembered that confrontation going a lot differently than it did.

At least the way Ezio got his scar was much the same, no matter that Desmond didn’t  _ like _ reliving that. Was what and how they  _ forgot _ things related to what their genetics recorded? Or was something up with the Animus?

Not that Desmond really had a way to ask. At least, not without revealing secrets he didn’t want to admit to. It was nowhere near time for that right now.

Desmond coasted along the memory, watching everything as it happened in real time. As it happened to Ezio in real time. He  _ felt _ the memories as if they were his own, much like with Altair.

Though the memories had differences he couldn’t explain away, either simply  _ differently _ or in the wrong order altogether. Desmond could only think that there were subtle differences between how he and Ezio remembered things. They shared much, but they also left each other to live their own lives for the most part. Some things might’ve gotten lost as time passed. Aveline, he felt, agreed with the theory from where she watched over him.

That was what they thought until Giovanni, Federico, and Petruccio were arrested though, and they  _ remained _ in prison.

Desmond was confused, and his synch rate dropped to reflect that. He heard Lucy and Rebecca warn him about how close he was to desyncing. With Aveline’s help, he pushed forward, no matter how wary they were of the situation.

Something was not right. Desmond wished to pin the blame entirely on the Animus, but that wasn’t- that wasn’t entirely possible. Maybe some of it, but not  _ all _ , and Desmond was not in the habit of lying to himself.

He might’ve been in the habit of ignoring the obvious though.

Later, Desmond shook with horror as he watched the bodies of his  _ family _ swing from the noose, and wished he had left the memory much earlier.

0o0o0

  
  



	27. I May Fall 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's part 15 of desmond's story~
> 
> it's been more than a month since i last published a chapter lol. i was trying really hard to figure out a way to continue on from last chapter, and this is what i came up with. i'm actually really happy with it! on the way there though, i did edit the rest of the story. there were weird spaces and misspellings and some awkward sentences, so those should be smoothed out now.
> 
> there's a lot of discussion regarding space and time travel from our favorite cluster, as well as some outside!POV from lucy
> 
> ...honestly you can probably figure out where this story is going bc i'm not really doing much to hide it lol. though i am keeping some things under wraps if only bc our characters don't know what's going on yet completely either.

Lucy watched in terror as Desmond _fell_ from the Animus seat, and threw up into the trash can at the side. Rebecca had put it there, a _just in case_ kind of thing, and Lucy was now very thankful that she had the foresight to do so.

“Desmond!” Lucy said, and rushed forward to help him. She knelt at his side.

Desmond said- _something_ , and Lucy stilled. She recognized it as Italian, but the dialect was all wrong. Lucy _knew_ Italian, had chosen it as one of her languages when she was a child. This was Italian, but it was incredibly outdated-

“Ezio?” Lucy said carefully, cautiously, hoping that he _wouldn’t_ answer positively.

Rebecca, who had grabbed a water bottle before coming over, froze. So did Shaun, who was waiting a little ways away with a sedative in case Desmond turned violent. Lucy didn’t think he would, but with Animus subject, you couldn’t be _too_ careful.

“ _Yes_?” Desmond said in that same Italian, voice hoarse as if he had been screaming.

Which he had been, before he had forced himself out of the Animus. Rebecca barely got the IV out of the arm before he tore it out on his own in his fit.

“Are you-” Lucy bit her question off, her gut churning. If the Bleeding Effect brought forward the Ezio that had just watched his family get _hanged_ , then he was by no means _okay_ . “Can you stand?” she asked instead. Lucy bit her lip, hoping she wouldn’t have to repeat that in Italian. _Please_ let Desmond still understand English.

Desmond sat there, breathing heavily, for a long moment. He stared at her with wide eyes, like he looked _through_ her. Eventually, he nodded, and started to climb to his feet.

“Here, let me-” Lucy said, and helped him up.

He stumbled, but managed to land on the Animus chair instead of back onto the floor. Lucy nudged the trash can closer in case Desmond threw up again.

“Here,” Rebecca said, and held out the water bottle. “Rinse your mouth out, you’ll feel better.”

Desmond _looked_ at her as if doubting her sanity, but he took the water bottle. His hands were shaking but he managed to rinse his mouth out, spitting it into the trash can. Once he did that a couple of times, he drank heavily until the water bottle was almost empty.

“ _Thank you,_ ” Desmond managed.

“Not a problem,” Rebecca said. She bit her lip and watched Desmond. “Desmond?”

Silence. Lucy and Rebecca shared a worried glance as Desmond just _sat_ there, non responsive. Thankfully he turned to Rebecca before the minute was up. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes tracked them easily.

“Are you good to move?” Rebecca asked.

Desmond shifted slightly, testing, before nodding. “Not far,” he said quietly.

Lucy let out a breath she didn’t know she held when she heard English. Accented English, but English all the same.

Rebecca smiled in relief. “That’s fine, we’ll help you. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

With that, Lucy and Rebecca helped Desmond walk to his bed, leaving Shaun to clean up after them. Desmond wobbled the entire way there, but he didn’t stumble. At the very least he wasn’t dead weight on them. But every time Lucy glanced at him from the corner of her eye, his expression was distant.

Desmond wasn’t all the way present, and that worried Lucy greatly.

“We’ll check on you in an hour, see how you’re feeling then,” Rebecca said, setting another water bottle on the side table, and another trash can on the floor. “Just get some rest, okay?”

Desmond nodded and slipped his shoes off. He spent what energy he had to crawl under the covers and put his head on a pillow. He blinked at them, and then turned away, closing his eyes.

Lucy watched him for a moment before Desmond’s breathing evened out. She shared a glance with Rebecca, and then they quietly left the room.

Rebecca let out a hissed breath when they left the room. She stalked forward to wrap Shaun in a tight hug. “Fuck.”

“Did that happen before?” Shaun asked Lucy, letting Rebecca cling to him.

Lucy hesitated, remembering. “Nothing as bad as that, but there was- when we escaped, when I had him sync to grab the data? He had a bad reaction then.”

And then there was the possibility that he experienced hallucinations even prior to that. Lucy still wasn’t sure about that.

“Yeah, you said he cried and got a bloody nose,” Rebecca said, pulling away from Shaun. “He looked _terrible_. But he didn’t throw up then?”

“No,” Lucy said, and shook her head, “Nor did he Bleed badly enough to confuse who he was. He’s been having language issues, but…”

There was a rather big leap from confusing which language he spoke in to thinking that he was Ezio. It was a rather extreme reaction, too. And Desmond had been doing so well… was it because they lowered their defenses that this seemingly came out of left field?

Damn, but Lucy really wasn’t looking forward to writing the reports to either Warren _or_ William about this.

“It might’ve just been this particular memory,” Shaun said, frowning as he looked to the bedroom door. He very much was still coming to terms with Desmond as a person. Lucy didn’t envy him that. “We did explain that Ezio’s memories were trauma locked. We didn’t expect this kind of negative reaction, but trauma rarely plays fair.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Lucy agreed ruefully.

Rebecca glanced at Lucy. “Did- did Sixteen have a reaction this negative this quickly?” she asked hesitantly.

Lucy stifled her reaction at the mention of Clay. “...No,” she said, thinking back. “It was a gradual descent, all told,” she admitted.

Until it wasn’t, and became a plunge. And Lucy hated herself for it, and regretted how her decisions hurt others. But she _had_ made her decision and refused to back down then.

She should probably refuse to back down still, especially since she was a Templar now. But Lucy wasn’t in the habit of lying to herself, and found that meeting Desmond _changed_ things. She didn’t think he was entirely aware of it, for all that he worked to maneuver them just as readily as they worked on him.

It was possible that he was just doing it to get her to trust him, to help him even against her orders, but Lucy didn’t think so. Desmond looked to Lucy and saw _Lucy_ , and held out a hand to her. Maybe in the beginning it was just to protect himself, but _now_ Desmond decided to keep his hand out regardless.

There was still a lot that Lucy didn’t know. And she refused to make another decision without all of the facts, especially one this life changing. But wasn’t it still something, that she entertained the idea of it? To ask Desmond for his help to _leave_?

Still, despite everything else surrounding their situation, Lucy was team leader. She had a job to do. And Lucy never backed down from her responsibilities.

“Come on,” Lucy said, sighing heavily, and led them to the kitchenette where the cheap beer was held. They all needed a drink at this point. “We can’t terminate this mission, but we still need to discuss how this impacts our move forward.”

Rebecca and Shaun grimaced, but followed her anyway.

Lucy had missed them, she really did.

0o0o0

Desmond gripped Ezio closer, half on top of him. The pair of them were at the bottom of a pile comprised of their other selves. Neither of them could be anywhere else right now.

With Ezio’s family at least a week’s journey away at the moment, Ezio needed all the contact he could get. They would prepare to move later, when they calmed down. None of them would truly relax until they could see Ezio’s family on their own.

Fuck, but they _remembered_ now, what Jun had learned with the elderly Ezio she spent those few days with. His appearance. The love for Sofia and the children. What he spoke of.

Why did they forget? It was in the past for all of them at that point. _Why_?

Not important right now. What was important was Ezio, reminding him that _this_ was their reality. _This_ was the world that his family still existed in. That, though they currently lived in different cities, Ezio could leave _right now_ to travel to see them. What Desmond’s genetics said was not the truth of what happened.

Desmond pressed closer, and with the others, worked to bring themselves all to an even keel.

-

Things… settled, somewhat, by the time that Rebecca came to check on them. Not entirely, but enough. They balanced on the edge of a knife point, but at least they weren’t unresponsive like they were before.

And they _were_ they, for now. Things were still too raw for them to be anything else at the moment. It might cause problems, it might not. They didn’t care much about the potential consequences as much as they cared about keeping each other steady.

“Desmond?” Rebecca called, knocking gently on the door. “You awake?”

They turned over to look to the door. Rebecca was there, quiet and unobtrusive, and _blue_ . They probably wouldn’t react very well to anyone _red_ right now. It was probably good that Lucy wasn’t the one to come and get them.

“Yes,” they said, managing to speak in English.

That was something else that they would have to worry about later. They had a convenient excuse in the Bleeding Effect at least. Either way, that was a future worry. It was also something they had to discuss when they felt up to the task.

“You didn’t drink any more water,” Rebecca said, looking to the water bottle. She frowned at them, but it was a very _quiet_ sort of frown. They weren’t sure that they weren’t supposed to see it at all. “Drink, okay? You’ll feel better.”

They stared at her, before quirking their lips at her. Rebecca knew exactly what she meant when she said _better_ . Because _better_ was by no means _good_ , or even _okay_. And, yeah, drinking some water would probably make them feel better. They threw up their breakfast earlier.

It took more effort than it should have to sit up and reach for the water bottle. It wasn’t that they were physically weak, no. It was more like their limbs refused to listen to them properly. Their body was fine, but their mind was bruised.

Still, they did. They sat up, and drank some water. And they _did_ feel better. It was- nice, yeah, to have Rebecca there, watching over them. Sure, maybe in the back of her mind part of her care was because they were part of her job. But there was genuine _care_ there, and it was _nice_. Nice to have someone looking out for them right now.

“Thanks,” they said.

“It’s not a problem Desmond,” Rebecca said, smiling at them, “I promise.”

“...what’s going to happen right now?” they asked after a moment.

“You get to rest until mid-day, at least,” Rebecca said, and sighed. “We have stuff that we can do that doesn’t require the Animus. But since that’s the entire reason our team was assigned to this case, we’ll have to talk about what we’re going to do.”

They pressed their lips together at that. But they saw the point of it. They didn’t _like_ it, but they understood.

“Okay,” they agreed, and sighed. They really didn’t want to deal with anything regarding that right now.

“Yeah, I know,” Rebecca said to their unspoken words, and smiled wryly. “Drink more water, and rest. I’ll grab something easy for you to eat.”

They nodded, and watched Rebecca as she left the room. Then they climbed back under the covers.

-

They were Assassins, and Templars, and all the combinations thereof that could be applied to them. If they couldn’t adapt, they would have died years ago. So, despite the pain, despite the desperation, and the fear, eventually they got bored of wallowing in their own pity.

Not, of course, that they forgot. They had long memories and could hold a grudge with the best of them. But it meant that they wiped their tears, slapped some salve on their bruised minds and hearts, and moved forward regardless.

Oh, they could tell that they still had a few breakdowns in their future as the stress of the recent weeks continued to pile up, but this release did help a lot.

Desmond sat up in bed, and reached for the water bottle and the bowl of oatmeal Rebecca left behind for them. It was all room temperature now, but it was easy to drink and easy to eat.

They each were in a place of relative safety, and looked to their individual selves first. They had the comforting and constant presence as a bolstering reminder. One couldn’t complete their work to the best of their ability if they didn’t take care of themselves first.

It was easy to go to Elise, who had the most privacy of them all at the moment. Arno had been taking care of them, having found Elise collapsed in their office. Arno would warn them if anyone came near, or if anything urgent came up.

“The easiest way to see all of your family again would be to send letters to bring them all back to Florence,” Elise said, arms wrapped around Ezio.

“The Medici still favor the Auditore. It has been a while since you have all been together, so no one will think it odd for you all to return,” Aveline added.

“Then that is what I will do, and move to visit Florence myself,” Ezio said. They sighed and held Elise tighter. “To see my father and Petruccio will ease most of my worries, even if Federico will not be there so soon.”

“And to bring your family together _would_ be wonderful,” Evie said. They smiled wistfully. “It’s been some time since we’ve seen them all.”

“It would,” Desmond agreed, and pressed closer to Ezio. “Shame it took something like this to prompt us heading over, but the end justifies the means, I guess?”

Ezio snorted and shoved at Desmond. “Shut up.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton sighed theatrically. “Children,” they said, as if they weren’t literally speaking about their other selves.

Ezio rolled their eyes and Elise reached out to shove Ratonhnhaké:ton. “You shut up too!”

They all sighed in relief at the release of tension. Right. Now to get onto the conversation that they needed to have.

“We don’t exist in the same timeline,” Desmond said.

“No,” Jun said quietly, “We do not.”

“And yet we _know_ each other still,” Altair said, “Jun and the Ezio they met found nothing that suggested that they did not.”

“Except of what we just learned,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, and gripped their necklace. “If it weren’t for the age difference that warped our connection inward, Jun might have let Ezio know.”

“As it was, I very carefully did not react at that time,” Jun said. They frowned, “And the thing that makes us forget what we _know_ of each other made me forget that as well.”

“Well, we remember now,” Desmond said dryly. “But- there’s also something else about my genetic memory that we learned.” They turned to them expectantly.

“That Ezio didn’t have _us_ ,” Aveline said. They all grimaced. No one could even _comprehend_ that kind of existence at this point. “None of the memories lined up. Even if the Animus couldn’t recreate us to be seen, nothing happened in the few memories we saw leading up to _that one_ matched what we remembered.”

“How so?” Altair asked.

“Well, our confrontation with Duccio went differently, that’s for certain,” Desmond said, shrugging.

“Ugh, _that_ bastard,” Ezio said, and shuddered. “Did it still go well?”

“I think so,” Aveline said. “Claudia seemed pleased, at least. Though we weren’t paying as much attention as we could have.”

“That’s good,” Ezio said flatly, expression distant as they remembered what _they_ had done to Duccio. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.

Then again, _Duccio_ didn’t deserve pleasantries. Like, at all. He was kind of a scumbag.

“Why is it different, then?” Evie asked, tapping their chin in thought. “Jun and Ezio met, and confirmed that he _did_ have other selves, even if things happened differently for _that_ group compared to ours. But Desmond is descended from an Ezio that did _not_ have us, even if his timeline sounds like it matched up with the Ezio that Jun met.”

“I met Aveline, who for all appearances, seemed exactly like _our_ Aveline if only a decade older,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. They frowned. “Though, now that I am thinking about it, despite sharing what seemed to be everything that _we_ do, the way she spoke…”

Aveline blinked at them, and followed their train of thought. It wasn’t hard, and they started remembering what Ratonhnhaké:ton was now thinking of. “...I do not think we can confirm it, not without meeting myself again, but it sounded as if she had _not_ found out the identity of the Company Man yet.”

“When we had dealt with Madeleine and the Templars earlier this year,” Altair said. They frowned and turned to Desmond. “Did the memories you live through have _us_ in them?”

Desmond hesitated, and thought. “...No, not really. But that Animus was… awkward. Not as well developed. I lived through those memories, but it was- hard. Blurry at some points. We worked so hard on just staying synched at _all_ that other than a few key points everything is… not good?”

Evie and Elise shared a glance, and reached out to grab each other’s hands. They closed their eyes and _focused_ . As the pair that held the most interest in research and learning about things for the sake of _learning_ , they had the best recall of the eight of them. Together they could almost remember things in picture-perfect detail.

“...Nothing,” Evie and Elise said, opening their eyes to look at them.

“There are no mentions or possibilities that the Altair that we lived through had other selves, much like the Ezio,” Evie said.

“And, what Lucy and Vidic spoke about when they discussed Altair was… off, from what we know of him,” Elise added. “We thought it was because of the time difference, as well as the fact that they are Templars. But with everything…”

“We can’t know for _certain_ ,” Evie stressed, “But it’s all pointing to the fact that those memories belong to an Altair that we don’t know either.”

Desmond bit their lip. That did make the most sense. But… “If the Altair and the Ezio that I am descended from did not have other selves as we do, then why did the Ezio Jun meet have them? As well as the Aveline that Ratonhnhaké:ton met?”

They all paused as they realized what they meant. There was… _something_ in that thought. Like reading a book only to find that the words were in a language they didn’t know. The information was there, but it was also so very far away.

“If…” Jun started, “If we take that _thing_ that makes sure that we do not remember each other outside of when we discuss our futures and our pasts, and apply it to our situation…” they trailed off, frowning.

“It did not allow us to remember what you learned with Ezio,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “So we must assume that it works to make sure we meet with as little resistance in _not_ remembering anything.”

“The memory loss isn’t fool proof,” Altair pointed out, “Desmond, especially, is always more aware of our futures than we are. They cannot speak of it to us, but they do not _forget_ the way that we do.”

“Neither does Elise and I,” Evie said, motioning between them. “Or you. Because you write in your Codex what we learn, even when normally anyone else would forget.”

“I would assume,” Desmond said slowly, sounding the thought out, “that it is _because_ we do not meet with any of you in our time. There is little to impact when compared to Ezio and Jun, or Ratonhnhaké:ton and Aveline.”

Elise frowned. “I am in the same time frame as Aveline and Ratonhnhaké:ton, but we are separated by an ocean. If I were to just, get up _now_ and travel to the Americas, I could meet with them. And we would _know_ each other, because we share our minds and hearts. But if I chose to ever _not_ do that, to refrain, then…”

“Then it is possible that the versions of us that would exist then do _not_ have us,” Aveline said.

Desmond groaned and put their head in their hands. “Fucking time travel.”

Another pause as they all agreed with that sentiment.

“It’s not just time travel, though, is it?” Altair asked after a moment. They shrugged when they all looked to them. “It’s timelines. Space, not just time.”

“Because we perceive the time of day as the same, too,” Ezio said in realization. “It’s why we can all use Desmond’s timekeeping devices, no matter that time zones are a thing.”

“And that what _we_ , _eight_ , have experienced together is different than _they_ , _eight_ , as well as the individual selves have experienced,” Desmond said.

“The Ezio I have met has experienced the same tragedy that the Ezio Desmond is descended from has, but still shares themselves with _us_ ,” Jun said.

“And the Aveline that I met is still working through the issues that we resolved recently,” Ratonhnhaké:ton added.

“But we and our timelines still influence each other,” Evie pointed out. “Altair’s Codex is one such thing. We learn together what we were all taught, some of which came from that Codex. And what is in that Codex, Altair will write what they learned from _us_ . Not what they could glean for themselves through life, but what _we, eight_ , have specifically come up with. And those things are then part of what we learned as it was passed down to us.”

That was true. Like the new hidden blades, that did not require taking the ring finger off. Or the hidden pistol attachment that Ezio found the designs for. Or the hidden crossbow, which was lost to time, even as enough information remained for the French Assassins to remake. Several free running techniques that those in the Holy Land would have no reason to learn. A few martial arts moves that originated in China, or in Latin America. They were all things that they learned and gave to Altair to transcribe.

“Something has _caused_ this,” Altair stated.

They turned to them. They sounded so sure of themselves, as if stating a _truth_. Yet Altair looked as startled as the rest of them that they spoke at all.

“What do you mean?” Desmond asked.

Altair frowned, and ran their hands along each other. It was a thinking motion, and one they used to keep themselves calm. “...I don’t know,” they said slowly, “But it is still _true_.”

They all felt their certainty. Their confusion at _why_ they said that still remained, but so did their utter belief that they stated fact.

“Do you think it’s the Apple?” Aveline asked, “Or Those Who Came Before?”

“Why would they have anything to do with this?” Elise asked, frowning. They looked off to the side in thought. “The Pieces of Eden are powerful artefacts, but none so great as to alter both space and time the way that _we_ do just by existing.”

“From everything that we’ve gathered, they simply did not care about humanity,” Evie added, sighing. “If we look to the Bible and its story of Creation, and what we found out from the Prophecy Disc, humanity had to _rebel_ to be free. If Those That Came Before did leave anything behind, then it is nothing that was meant to help us.”

“Such as the Apple,” Altair said, and rubbed at their arms. “I… we still do not know what it did, beyond finding me _acceptable_ , though it strained enough to force me into unconsciousness. We do not know if it was meant to harm us, or help us.”

“That is not how any records of the Apple show it acts,” Elise said, tapping their thighs as they recalled everything they had read about the Apple, “Nor was it how we observed Al Mualim acting with it.”

“If whatever worked to bring our timelines together did so, then it is likely it also touched whatever Pieces of Eden we would come in contact with,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

“And if truly someone, or something, is what caused us all to meet, then it is a _good thing_ , and meant as a gift,” Ezio said, nodding resolutely. “We are not bad, nor are we meant in some grand plan to befall _anything_ not of our choosing.”

“We are _not_ ,” They all said fiercely in agreement.

0o0o0

“Desmond?” Lucy called, knocking on the bedroom door.

It was nearing dinner time, which seemed plenty of time to let Desmond resettle. She’d have spoken with him much sooner if Rebecca hadn’t told her to _wait_. And the way that Rebecca had bitten her lip, thinking something over- well. Lucy, despite her impatience, waited.

Very little went _right_ if anyone ignored Rebecca when she got that expression on her face.

“Lucy?” Desmond replied, and she breathed in relief when she heard the strong and steady American accent.

“I’m coming in,” she said, and opened the door, hoping-

Good. Desmond wasn’t in bed anymore. Instead, the bed had been made, and Desmond sat on the edge of it. The water bottle was empty, and the cereal eaten. Desmond’s eyes looked clear and he watched her studying him with a steady gaze. He had his shoes on again. All in all, he looked much better than before.

Lucy smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Desmond snorted. “That’s a word for it,” he said wryly. “Did you need something?”

For him to get back in the Animus, really, but that wasn’t something she could say right now.

“I just came to check up on you,” Lucy said, with all that implied. Desmond didn’t visibly react, but she could _feel_ his disapproval. She once again wondered what he did in New York City to hear everything she _wasn’t_ saying. If Lucy didn’t know better, she’d think he’d never left the Assassins in the first place. “It’s almost dinner time. I just wanted to ask if we needed to get you something to eat or not.”

Desmond made a face at her. “No, no you don’t. I’m making dinner because for some reason, I feel like I can’t trust you with that. Not after all the takeout.”

This time, Lucy smiled in honest relief. Because if Desmond continued to make food like last night’s dinner all of the time, she might honestly fall in love. “ _Thank_ you.”

Desmond stood up, and stretched his arms over his head. “Not a problem, really. And we can talk about what we’re going to do after, okay?”

“Okay,” Lucy agreed.

There were, after all, only a few more days until Warren’s first check up. Lucy needed more data than she currently had to make this worth it. If Project Siren didn’t pan out, Lucy was well aware of how disposable she was.

Besides, she’d rather like more data on what _she’d_ been working on for the past several years too. Lucy was self aware enough to admit that some of her own pride was at stake here.

0o0o0

 

**Author's Note:**

> [here](https://hausos-writing.tumblr.com/) is my writing tumblr for anyone interested
> 
> also, leave a comment! what did you like? do you have any questions? what would you like to see? i don't even know guys this story does what it wants


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